


I Just Imagined Life Without You

by Pseudonaut



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Drama & Romance, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 09:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10409295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonaut/pseuds/Pseudonaut
Summary: The first time Rhys walked into his therapist Fiona's cheap looking office, that mental clock ticked away day by day. Week by week. Month by month. And now, at the end, their final session; all the hands had coiled, broken and stopped -- but he was starting to miss the noise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this as a drabble on my Tumblr but was proud of it so decided to post it here.
> 
> Tumblr: http://ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com/

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“I just imagined life without you.”

“Oh? …And, how does that make you feel?”

The broken man shuffled awkwardly in the worn chaise longue, his own clothes clashing against the materials in a scratching noise. His left hand always gripping nervously at the stump in-place of his right arm, a bid to reduce the pain that had no reason in being there.

He let a murmured noise replace the damaged words that had a want to be poured from his mouth like blood from a cut.

“Rhys, you _know_ we can’t make any progress if you don’t talk to me.” Fiona, his psychiatrist, smiled timidly as she spoke, trying to avoid any repeating incidents from their first few session.

How long ago that was, and even now, in their last hour together, there was still so much he hadn’t told her, but so little Fiona felt her capabilities could do to help. Especially on her prices. Otherwise nobody reasonable would come to her over a therapist that still had a real license.

It made it easier to pin-point patients’ problems to be so down-and-out to come to her over a so called _professional_. No one on earth would bat an eye over the woman that actually listened compared to the one who had a license that said they could do the same. Or maybe her worldview was just skewed as a compass.

“It makes me feel,” The man mumbled through his sewn together sentence, “Helpless.”

“Helpless, how?” Natural concern drew across her face as Fiona had to pick were words very carefully. Opening up would burn embers in their seats, keeping quiet would waste the months she’d spent dissecting and replacing her patient’s solemn thoughts.

Rhys moved his hand up to rub the side of his face, which covered his empty, closed eye-socket, making Fiona note how what remained of his other limb held in a tied-up jacket sleeve lumbered around in the same manner. She couldn’t fix a phantom limb.

“Hurts…”

“Your eye?”

– Or lack-thereof.

“Everything. When I’m not here. It’s like it’s happening all over again.” The man’s voice hoarsely croaked as his body lent forward slightly.

“Your accident?” Fiona asked, nodding knowingly.

A shell before her shook his head, garnering shocked surprise from her. “It wasn’t your fault, Rhys. Everyone knows it’s not your fault. He _pushed_ you-”

He whined a bit in an effort to interrupt her before speaking his peace clearly.

“I don’t want to talk about the fucking ‘accident’, alright? It’s not the accident, stop trying to-”

The sheer thought that there was something more traumatizing to him other than loosing an eye and and an arm in an industrial accident was baffling to her. “You can’t just not think about it anymore. We have an hour. One last hour together, you can’t keep avoiding the big things anymore, you just can’t.”

Audible swallowing broke the tension hanging between them, he tucked his legs onto the sofa and rested his head on the arm rest making it push his cheek up to cover the hole in his head. He nodded in agreement to Fiona, but it felt unwilling like he was possessed.

Fiona uncrossed her legs, clearing her throat as she pushed a streak of deep, dark brown and red hair from her eyes. She felt as if she would regret knowing the answer to her next question, but hiding from the opportunities she had to pry him open wouldn’t help anyone. 

“What do you do before our sessions start?”

”I wait outside and listen to cars and the wind.”

“No, I mean what do you do when we aren’t in sessions? Just, whenever?”

Slowly, he turned on his other side, not wanting to confront her. “I don’t… Barley eat, drink. Don’t find things fun anymore. Everyone I loved never loved me, just their jobs. No family left. I just…don’t.”

She felt a mix of anger and pity bubbling in her throat, suppressing it only out of a duty for whatever professionalism was inside of her. “Rhys…” The psychiatrist cooed in concern, tilting her head and sighing, “Why haven’t you ever brought this up?”

If he was fixed I couldn’t see her anymore. His occasional hums of pain had changed pitch as the groans reverberated past trembling lips ready to let tears fall from only one side of his face they could.

“You aren’t…hurting yourself, are you?”

“I couldn’t even do it if I wanted too. My arm hurts enough.” He turned his head to gaze at his side, as if an outline of what should be there was burnt into his eye. “And it isn’t even there anymore.”

“I told you not to focus on the pain. I know it’s easier said than done but the more guilt you have-”

“He let go of me…” He sobbed into a hand in an attempt to mask the noises his babbling made.

Fiona’s eyes pierced the back of his head in a stern glare. “Rhys, stop it.” 

“My best friend let go of me when they told him too…”

“Rhys, stop it!” She repeated herself loudly, sternly, causing her voice to crack and letting some of those emotions in her throat slip.

He jumped a little at her response, sensing the concern voiced at him, he turned back around to face her, wiping his eye, nose and teeth. An old habit mixed with the loose tears. “…Well. Got me talking about. And being here beats chugging pint glasses of paracetamol.”

“Not cocaine?” Fiona quipped, tapping her fingers in rhythm on the arm rest, seemingly soothing her patient.

“No thanks to you.”

“In my _purely_ professional opinion; it was for the best.” Her attempts to tease nary broke the tension she created.

He didn’t smile. There was barley any emotion across his pale, tired face at all. Only pain, hidden behind his eyes, black ovals formed underneath them.

“What happened to you?” Fiona asked quickly.

“If I tell you, and I’m fixed then we’re done.” Rhys repeated his same statement as before, almost mimicking an answer.

She knew he wasn’t going to tell her even if they were trapped in this make-shift office together for all eternity.

“Technically, yes.”

A low and stubborn groan gutturally passed the regular noises of discomfort he made, “Then why should I?”

Fiona looked pleadingly at him, the sheen of her green eyes doing more to him than her candied words could, especially if they were fake. Her fingers numbed in anticipation for whatever answer he might give her. Maybe she’d be scared – Maybe she’d be appalled. Or, maybe, she would expect nothing else.

Rhys swallowed hard before his eye looked away in shame. “I hurt someone.”

“I think we’ve all hurt people in our lives.”

His demeanor soured, still sad and plotting with each sporadic murmur of sound. “I _hurt_ someone.” He emphasized.

Fiona adjusted her jacket sleeves, leaning to the side in her last attempt to scan her patient’s features. “What do you mean, Rhys?..” She spoke gently, caring – lovingly.

And just as he tilted his heavy head to answer, the clock chimed in it’s interruption. 

Their hour was over.

And Rhys shattered like glass under pressure.

Tears came back, but he let them flow other than babbling to hide them fruitlessly, wrapping his arm around himself and letting out a cold and wavering breath. Drawing it out into the cramped space they soon wouldn’t share. Once again imagining life without her, knowing she shared that feeling with him.

“Rhys.” Fiona croaked out, “I’m so proud of you. You wouldn’t even show emotion to anyone weeks ago. Barley even speak. Even when you talk about just waiting for these sessions shows you care about getting better, even if you aren’t here for that…"

He nodded in agreement, fast and fluid.

Fiona smiled widely, leaning forward on her chair. “You can actually walk down the street, not caring about the chance of someone looking at you. Because they don’t, Rhys. No one thinks about you for the rest of the day, when they’re in bed or when they get up in the morning.”

Maybe he missed that.

The man wiped his ears clear, trying not to sob past his gritted teeth, still immaculate from past dental insurance. 

“I…”

“Need a minute?”

“I don’t want to leave…”

“Then don’t. Just stay a moment.” She was too soft, finding it hard to keep her own emotions in check, balancing a cabaret of words dangling off the tip of her tongue, made-up answers that will never be answered.

“Yeah…” 

Rhys took a moment to wipe off his informal clothing, still dapper to him, checking for any stains, a distraction from the turbulent reality crashing besides him.

And after that minute she stood up quickly in vast comparison to him, slowly dragging out his time as they moved across the rickety tin floor he had grown accustomed to. Feet fumbling towards the oval door, he turned to see her inches away, hands grasping one another.

In the instant her brightness touched him that close he smiled, just a little. Words and emotions like silk caressing her ears – a reward, finally.

“Goodbye, Fiona.” Her name sounded alien but sickeningly matched his voice.

With no noise, they embraced in a hug. A long hug. His arm tight around her, her fingers lacing the back of his scalp as if she were stroking lion; cautious and respectful. And after he was the first to let go Fiona knew her job was done. The door to the clean, beige caravan she worked and lived in open, her former patient stepping out into the world. Still slow, but keeping his back to her, much for his sake over his therapist’s.

She closed the door tight, leaning her head firmly against it, eyes dropping to a close, hand instinctively covering a quivering lip she knew they shared.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get much more NSFW here. So be warned.  
> Regardless, enjoy.
> 
> -
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com

 

 

> _Downtown Phoenix, Arizona_
> 
> _Tuesday, 05:03am_
> 
> _14 Hours after the final session_

 

 

The back of Rhys' ears boiled through the heat of his pillow, engulfed by memories of her roaring a forest fire in the fractured mind he held. A bed too large for him along shifting it's sheets as the man's past day played out amidst the numb pain persisting along a lack of an arm. But even as the heat ate his shaking body whole, the only remedy, ironically, would have been feeling the heat from her against him one more time.

He woke, shirtless, sweating and pained -- in the best high-rise apartment severance and welfare could buy. The man had to hang onto the tiniest piece of luxury left in a life crumbling around him. Rather what was actually around him was a grey, rectangular room, clothes messily tossed aside by still open wardrobes and the large window his bed was facing.

A facade of professionalism in furniture form. Rhys could see this all from the ceiling light he left on -- partly out of necessity and partly from the fear of that tight, trapped space that ruined his life, still whirring and biting away, hungry as that desert heat for the rest of him.

Wiping sweat from under his eyes with a trembling hand he stood, quickly making his way to the kitchen sect. Metallic rows of appliances he couldn't use anymore acted like a runway signal from the moonlight it captured from more lavishly large windows. Each eager footstep took him to exactly what he expected -- the only sensible and organised part of his life left by a sink. 

The white bottle of ibuprofen had a capsule of paracetamol stacked on top of it. The white pill almost invisible against the lid of cream colored bottle strewn aside, never to serve it's purpose. It was never the order he swallowed them in, though.

Two large, pink capsules went quickly first, then the final white pill, all paired with a practical aperitif in the for of a pint glass of tap water, ready and waiting. Only to be chewed away by gum to take away the taste of the medicine's residue that dissolved in his mouth.

But sadly, what should be an easy task always took Rhys longer. Despite the ease of the actions, only having one eye made picking up small objects an issue. Not to mention the amount of time he tipped and even broke a glass of water, leaving him in a soggy mess of tears and pain on the floor of the lush, plain decor of a silent apartment.

This time he succeeded. Two pills, followed by a restrained sip. One pill, followed by a flood washing over a dry mouth. Even the rest of the water tasted foul in his mouth before the stick of gum he chewed lazily, filling the living room with the sound of teeth smacking and grinding against one another.

Falling back into sleep was easy with pain subsided. And in the last few months it was even easier when he found another pillow could suffice in forming around the embrace of a hug -- projecting out on his arm and around this substitute therapist. Something else other than a shoulder that could soak his remaining tears. 

 

 

> _Three Months Later_
> 
> _06:27pm_

 

 

Fiona's job had become mundane in it's simplicity. Or variety of jobs. Her sister and her were trained well by their foster father. Neither had expected to go from a life of mischief without parents to a life of professional mischief with a mentor. But recently the brains of the operation found that his own wealth was more important than his family.

So here they stood. In a caravan that could be a food truck one day, selling with stolen ingredients, a base of operations for a bank robbery. A therapist's office. Two lives with lives of their own. Fiona could barley remember past a mist of clients who's idea therapy was. Though she would pin it on Sasha she couldn't pin the acting on her this time. 

And even with the allure of upfront green wads of money thicker than the wallet they were held in, perhaps she should have tried harder. Because, past the businessmen and women pouring personal information of value to someone somewhere, in the company of a so called professional without the restrictions of recognition -- she'd become attached. 

It started out simply enough. Even if their newest patient was a grunt he was still Hyperion, one of the biggest names worldwide in arms contracting and manufacturing. But then he turned up on the doorstep, a man, younger than herself, standing in the rain, void of emotion. Missing an arm and an eye.

To her dismay, Fiona did have to take training before hand. And any guilt she had left in the shell of a body she inhabited was swept away like leaves on the sidewalk after she had to learn how to bake. But even turning a caravan into a boutique past painted flowers and dough plastering the walls was easier than just listening.

And God, did she want to scream when she thought about how much someone else could have actually done for him. But Fiona was dedicated to the con if nothing else. It's why she sat, not doing her job, unable to even stomach a glass of beer, on the red leather at the back of the caravan.

"-You would not believe how much a pain it is getting a briefcase full of money into a bank!" Sasha announced her presence back into the caravan with a laugh and an empty, tattered briefcase. "I mean, I don't trust them with my cards le-" The little sister stopped mid sentence at the sight of her sibling's stillness. Absence of makeup, a strewn together outfit.

Not even a reaction to her entrance.

Sasha swallowed hard, adjusting the buttons on her blue jean jacket before stepping forward to the her solemn sisters perched upon the furniture. Tossing the empty case aside with a light thud, she cleared her throat. "...It's been weeks, Fiona. And you've barley even talked to me..." Sasha sat down beside her, placing a comforting hand that only family could apply on the older woman's shoulder.

Fiona ground her teeth slightly before looking at her sister. "I'm sorry, Sash." She stated simply. "Just... haven't been on my A-game lately. Shouldn't leave you to take care of all the deals, It's..." Her voice cracked as glassy eyes looked up at their rust stained roof. "It's hard to step back into a routine. Don't think I can keep up this therapist gig."

"Who broke your heart?" Sasha replied, masking her concern with sarcastic humor.

The formerly lead con artist looked at her with the now tear filled and bloodshot eyes. A cacophony of familiar greens clashing with red -- doing more justice than a stream of verbose ever could. She sniffed and moved to a hand wipe her eyes, a silent gesture of the severity of her spilling emotions.

Clearing her throat, the kid sister tried again, with a different tone. "Who broke your heart?"

Laughing a bit at the fixed response, Fiona rubbed her hands on her white pant legs, warming them and readying her confession. Even more prepared for it to flood like a dam. "There's this guy... Let him go few months back. He was this noodle of a guy... Completely broken. Lost his arm and eye in one of those Hyperion factories. Thought he'd have some dirt, you know?"

"-Did he?" Sasha asked quickly, earning a scowl from her sister, prompting her to move her hand away.

"He starting coming in just to see me." Fiona continued, "Didn't have anyone left, all his friends chose work over him. No family. But I helped him -- I think. He stopped snorting coke because of me, I did that!.." She sounded half proud of herself as she held her hands close to her heart. "And when time came to go..."

Tears fell freely now, the woman struggled to speak in between sobs.

"I  _know_ I broke him again... He could have got real help but I exploited him! I used him to get dirt on some corporate assholes just like he used to be and he didn't even know!.."

"Fiona-"

"No! No, because you can't and I can't justify anything we do! We always think of the dead before we think of the living. The person in hospital and not the person that steps out and has to live life after who can't even hold a knife and fork!" Her face grew redder with each word, matching her eyes. "Life is so unfair! So cruel..."

Sasha wrapped her arms around Fiona fast, gripping her tightly as she wept and dampened her denim. Fingers rubbing a back that moved back and forth with each gasp and whimper. They sat for what felt like the longest time. The guilt the younger sibling felt of being unable to sympathize was minuscule compared to the plight she held tenderly.

When there were no tears left, the well empty, Fiona retracted herself to regain composure. A deep breath in -- and out. Timing each wavering sigh with the ticking of their clock and the bustle of cars speeding by the Arizona junctions, returning from a real days work. It reminded her of their sessions. And her mind wrestled with this being a small comfort or a chilling reminder.

Assessing her sister was calm, Sasha stood back up, smiling down at her partner in crime. Her feet creaked across the wood tiles as she nabbed her own purse lazily strung from a coat-rack. Though she was unable to remember how many dollars left in it were counterfeit or not.

"Y-You're going out?" Fiona asked, standing up and adjusting her clothes. "You just got back."

"I only came back for my purse to begin with, sis..." Sasha chuckled.

The new shade of red on the con artist's face had come from embarrassment this time round. "God, I'm so sorry, Sash..."

"Well, I figure one of us should put some money back into The Purple Coyote. I don't trust August but he runs the place well, so."

"I  _really_ wish you would stop hanging out with the suckers we're scamming out of work." Her big sister instincts kicked in immediately. "I don't exactly want you attracting attention."

"And I wish you weren't too good for this line of work, Fi."

Sasha smiled at her, earning one back.

"You should call him. That guy."

"What?! Sasha, he cannot know what I did!.."

"He wont have to. Just make an excuse about -- I dunno, patient stuff, pills or whatever." 

Before the elder sister could speak, the younger practically hopped back over to her, placing her hands on her sibling's arms.  

"You're a good person. Show him that, outside of this bullshit professional act. Just call him round and... Talk to him for real." 

Fiona looked down at their feet, thinking the scenarios though her mind. Another night alone, waiting for this numb feeling in her chest, replacing her heart to finally feel a beat again. Or, maybe, smile again and apologies. Somehow, blended in with an actual conversation, no bars or fancy chairs to hold them down in place for an hour.

Nodding in approval of her sister's request earned Sasha widest of grins, then hugging her quickly before stepping onto the door frame, hanging out of it playfully.

"I meant it. You really are too good for this -- deep down." Sasha's words hung in the air as she left the caravan, leaving the door open for the future guest.

 

 

> _07:45pm_

 

 

"Rhys. It's me. Uh- Fiona, I mean..."  

The anticipation of the ringing phone beforehand had left her on edge. Hairs still standing on the back of her neck. But she hadn't factored into his cautious nature, likely not getting many calls at all. Other than her all those month prior. That shouldn't have made her feel good -- but it did.

A lumped formed in his throat. He stopped breathing. He never expected to her her voice tickle his ears past the fuzz of his mobile speaker ever again. He didn't know if he should laugh or cry, but he had to say something -- anything to try and see her again.

"Hi." He squeaked out the tightness in his voice box, feeling as if he were being strangled. 

"So... I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to come round. I know it's pretty late but I've been busy all day with other clients and I thou-"

"Yes." Rhys said, shakily, tears pricking up in his eyes. He was grateful she couldn't see him. If he had another hand to grip at his nightstand he would. Though truth be told he felt more like destroying his apartment in a giddy display of celebration.

Fiona smiled widely, already grabbing her makeup kit with one free hand. "Great! That's great!.. I'll see you in a bit then?"

"Yes." He repeated, in as much as an upbeat tone he could manage.

With that, he hung up, running into his walk-in wardrobe, picking out something to wear to replace his tank top and shorts. Unbeknownst to him, she was doing almost exactly the same.

 

 

> _08:04pm_

 

 

Rhys arrived, not having to knock on the door this time round. For some reason he expected the inside of the caravan to look different. But everything was the same. Still the same pseudo-office he remembered visiting for what he expected to be the last time three months earlier. Olive colored seats clashing with the style of the red interior.

The only thing that had changed was her. Not sitting in a chair, waiting for him to do the same. Just standing on black heels, leading up to stockings that were covered by a sleeveless and short red dress bordering on pink. It was strange seeing her without a hat. But her smile of matching red lipstick made up for it.

"Why didn't you tie your tie?" Fiona asked immediately in a half teasing manor. 

He looked down as his blue dress shirt, covered in a puffy grey jacket, to his thin red tie -- undone. A remnant of a life when he had to wear it to work. "I-I..." Rhys bumbled before her.

Fiona stepped cautiously over to him, trailing a slender hand with black painted nails up his jacket sleeve and towards his neck. She took his tie in both hands, watching his nervous eyes as she tied it for him. Her comforting features up close once again seemed to calm him down.

"It's easy to do it with one hand..." Rhys croaked.

"So why didn't you?"

"I-I got carried away, I guess."

She teased, "That excited to see me?"

"Of course!.." He exclaimed, not able to see past her light mockery.

She finished, his genuine remark making her tighten the knot a bit too hard. But he didn't seem to mind. "Likewise." 

Fiona sat down where she previously held her somber moments over the months that now seemed nonexistent. She had a bottle of rosé wine waiting besides two glasses. Stolen label, of course. But her guest didn't have to know her true motives. He simply couldn't.

He joined her, slowly. Playing with the tied up sleeve that was missing an arm. Having issues looking at her after that inimate encounter. But he managed to sit, maybe a little too close to her. His host offered no protest though. Just moving to pour the glasses half full, offering it to him first.

She needed to see how to properly hold a wine glass, after all. She usually favored her glasses to have a grip on the side and not a stand. Rhys had some difficulty at first, unable to grasp the object on the table before him for several attempts they both seemed used to.

But when he managed to, he still held it properly, cradling the glass in his palm, bringing the peach colored liquid to his palate and sipping the contents. A fermented wave of sweetness and bitter warmth filling his mouth and travelling down his throat.

It even made him smile a little at her.

Joining him, she mimicked his movements before speaking. "How are you? And please don't just say good. I can read you like a book either way." 

"I've...been better."

They sat in silence for some time before she finally said it.

"Is it... because of me?" Fiona asked, taking a much longer drink.

He nodded in reply, "I haven't got into bad habits. But I've been sleeping less. Thinking more about...bad things. You calling me tonight was..." 

She waited in her glass for him to continue, even when he took his time.

"The best thing that's happened to me in months. I feel...feel happy...again." Rhys still sipped at the wine.

Neither one of them could appreciate the flavor.

Maybe this was a mistake. But she knew that he would continue this spiral without real help. Not like she could recommend anyone, or tell him her real job. And, in that exact moment, Fiona knew she was destined to share that same fate. He was biting away at her every day -- raw guilt and the need to care. 

More tension brew like a cauldron as minutes and refills passed.

"...How are you?.." He asked, his eyes fixed on her in a manor that could be seen as anti-social. But he knew it was because he cared. He just didn't know how to show it.

"I... I'm not doing too good." Fiona said with a laugh, finishing her glass of wine and pouring another.

Rhys had a genuine look of concern on his face upon hearing those words spill out of her. "Wh-What? Why?.."

Fiona suppressed tears at her weakness at this short of time into whatever _this_  was. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" His pitch became sadder.

"-Just take my apology!.. Please."

He was set back at this, her voice raised. It caused him to tear up immediately. "O-Okay, Fiona..."

"No, no, no, no!" Fiona warned, her hands now cradling his face, much to his surprise. "Please, just take it, I know it's hard and I know it's even harder to be genuine but-"

She bit her lip as she began to cry with him.

"Just be you! The real you I haven't met yet!.. I know he's in there! And just accept it when I tell you how sorry I am!.. For everything that's happened to you!.."

They both sat, staring at one another, her thumbs circling his temples. So close to the eyelids that remained forever close. No wonderful, tear stained lashes of brown to account for on one side. No tears from it at all. 

"P-Please don't leave me." Rhys babbled out, panting, in the early stages of a panic attack.

"What?.."

"Don't make me go back to before you, please. Just don't make me go back!"

His muddled, confusing words, talking about whatever was real and left in him. It was before her. Before he knew he needed her. She saw that now, why he would refuse, for months on end to consider changing. No matter what therapist, real or not he was taken to, the damage was done. She had broken the man before her.

"Rhys, this is exploiting. This can't happen -- God, I'm supposed to help people." Fiona lied, "You're not supposed to fall in love with me!.."

Now hyperventilating in front of her, eyes manic and heart beating so fast she could practically hear it past her own. She knew what she had to do. What she wanted. The first step of taking this damaged man into her private care. And her's alone. 

Fiona leaned forward, quickly, but softly, pressing her lips into his. Rhys' breathing subsided, his free hand now gripping onto her dress desperately. Eyes both closed -- their tears meddled together, making each kiss tinge of salt on their tongues.

"Fiona," He started speaking in between their embrace, their gasps for air. "I love you-" 

"I know, I know! You idiot..." She mocked playfully behind her pained noises her body was unable to hold back.

Grabbing his jacket she pulled him up with her on their feet, moving past the table. Fiona almost knocked over every old pan and skillet in her kitchen as she brought him into her room. It was cramped, but she didn't exactly want to be further from him.

She pushed him onto her bed, the old mattress bouncing as Rhys watched her slip off her shoes and move on top of him. Straddling his waist. But as she moved to strip away his tie she noticed how much he was shaking. Feeling his hand on her hip vibrate.

"You do want this, don't you?" Fiona asked, her voice still cracking through the sentence.

Rhys nodded incredibly fast as Fiona dropped his tie onto what little floor space she had.

"How long has it been? Since you've _been_ with anyone?" She asked again.

The man looked to the side, wanting to avoid any potentially judging gaze. "I-I can't remember... Before..." He said with a quiver as his eye looked onto his missing arm.

"That's alright..." Fiona said soothingly as she peeled off her dressed over her head, tossing it aside, leaving her in stockings and naked to his amazement. "I promise, you'll be alright..." She repeated reassuringly.

Her weight on his crotch felt tenfold when he looked up at her breasts, a comforting smile just above those. He found his shivering subsided as his therapist guided his hand up to cradle them in his palm. It was so real, but it didn't scare him. He felt -- warm.

Fiona helped him out of his own clothes, being sure to take her time and make sure he was comfortable with every step. It was removing his shirt that seemed and issue to him. She hadn't seem the damage past the obvious. But now, able to see almost all his shoulder bone removed, a scar running up, almost reaching his neck.

She had never felt such a genuine connection with someone as she did when she felt it. A finger tracing up the scar. The only pain Rhys felt, a phantom that wasn't there. An itch he couldn't scratch, day in day out. It made their night together even more special.

Each grind, each position change, each cry and moan and utterance of one another's name until climax that drove them further into the night. Leaving her holding him close in her arms watching him drift off to sleep without the aid of medication. One thing was for sure. As Fiona sat up in her bed, next to her patient and unable to sleep. Attempting to knot his tie around her neck with one hand. This was a hell of a way to bring him back into the chaise longue.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEW6RYRLTk4
> 
> -
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a month between this and chapter 2. I'll try and update more frequently.
> 
> -
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com

 

 

> _07:00am_

 

 

Even in the comfort of her arms, nightmares couldn't escape him. Rhys was pinned down by something unseen, writhing and turning helplessly. An enormous pressure hit his temple as the young man felt skull being drilled into. Cracking and breaking against his anguish. Each struggle aided what he couldn't see.

Mechanical noises surrounding the air made it clear where he was. Where he'd been running from in vain. Dim light, browned like rust lit up past his eyelids as he was sunk into the jaws of the machine that ate his flesh and took his mind. All while he heard laughing tickle at his ears.

Fiona's phone alarm beeped into life as it rattled sporadically against her nightstand. She let out a satisfied, if sleepy groan, her arm outstretched as fingers felt delicately across the touch screen. Pressing it randomly all over until she hit snooze, feeling tears that familiarly would roll from her eyes as she lay down. Even when she wasn't sad a thin warmth would trail down her temple. Perhaps left over.

The con-artist sat up, looking over to her side. And there he was. Finally with her -- looking as nervous in his rest as he did when he faced her. But she hoped that would soon change. She ran her hand down his messily slicked back brown hair and onto the patchy stubble where she imagined he attempted to shave. It was cute, in a way. It shouldn't have been.

Her hand moved back to her mobile, unlocking it and disabling the alarm. His eye started to flutter against the slender fingers are soothed him. The sound of her nails dragging against his hair drowned out the laughter like a hurricane fighting a lightning storm.

"Hey." Fiona said softly, watching her partner wake. 

Rhys was greeted by her smile. The feeling of her touching his skin again, even just her fingertips, made him ecstatic. Almost at a loss for words. But the tired man managed to let out a pleased hum in the form of acknowledgement. The light piercing through the cracks in her door made her face look so bright. 

She shifted a bit, half lying down to get a better look at him. "Good morning. Sleep okay?" 

He nodded, smiling a bit himself.

"You _can_ talk you know." Fiona teased, her thumb tracing the scar across his eye to his temple.

"Just don't know what to say..." Rhys said with a long swallow after.

"Anything."

"I-I had a nightmare. But I didn't need pills for the first time in years."

"Wanna talk about it?"

The man shook his head before sitting up with her, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he did. 

"Rhys, about last night. I like you. I _really_ like you. And I want to do all that again and again..." She thought through her lies and fake doctorate as she spoke. "But I think you still need help-"

"I-I'm not seeing anyone else. No one." He said sternly, to both their surprised.

Fiona continued to caress his hair, now as an attempt to calm him. "No, no! I was thinking something else... I want to help you. But I also want to date you. So I was thinking maybe I can do both. Be your therapist and your girlfriend."

Leaning into her palm, he nodded again, smiling wider. "Girlfriend?" He asked.

It made Fiona chuckle -- but he seemed oblivious as to why. That soured her mood quickly -- but in no way did it make her want to take her words back. For the first time in her life she was letting someone other than family in. It was terrifying but so necessary.

"Last night you told me you loved me. You mean that?"

"I do love you." Rhys' smile grew even more.

She sighed, "Those are such important words." 

He moved closer to her, "I've never felt like this..."

"I know, I just-" Fiona closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "Do you know what it's even like? To love someone?"

Taking time to collect his words, his hand rubbed his side where his other arm would be. "When I look at you, think about you, it hurts. Not like the pain in my arm, it's like good pain. And I don't ever not think about you. You're the first thing in my mind when I go to sleep and the only thing I ever want when I'm awake."

He starting to tear up, causing her heart to pang and pulse with the guilt she felt. The guilt anyone would feel for lying to someone so vulnerable. Especially during a declaration of love. Fiona could beg for forgiveness and his words wouldn't change. But that would imply she had the stomach to tell him.  

"When you're not with me I want to die. I don't see any point of being if I just can't see you or hear you." Rhys sniffed, "I don't care if you to say it back either. Just want you to know I love you and I can't change that..."

"Why me?" The con-woman replied in a pained whisper.

"You took care of me. Can look at me and still see me whole. The only person that _wants_ me to be whole. You're smart, b-beautiful. You're probably funny..." 

This made Fiona chuckle again. And again he was oblivious.

Rhys still smiled past tears, shaking his head in some kind of amazement. "And... you're wonderful."

Her body slumped into his, Fiona's lips lightly gracing her partner's. "It's my job..." _I_ _t wasn't even that_.

The only eye he had left search the space between them. It was as if he couldn't comprehend that. The fake therapist wondered if it wasn't just trauma effect his mental processing. Maybe there was still a cog left after the incident. She move her hand down onto his face, stroking it with her thumb.

"I'll say it one day, Rhys."

"Just... don't leave me." He croaked back.

"I'm not leaving you." She soothed, "I'm just dipping my toes in the water. But I don't mind if it's hot or cold."

He swallowed -- quickly nodding at her explanation.

"I'll figure this all out. For _us_." Fiona kissed him again quickly, before she heard the familiar sound of oil bubbling away in a hot pan. "That's my sister. I mentioned her, right?"

"Sasha..." Rhys replied as confirmation.

Fiona stood up, still naked from the night before. He couldn't help but stare -- even if she was his he still felt embarrassed. Especially because his love was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen. From a highlight of red hair to the shiny gloss of polish she didn't have time to remove from her toenails. Knowing she even put in the effort for him made Rhys feel as if he were about to sweat.

"I'm gonna take a shower and freshen up," She said while picking her clothes off the floor and folding them. "I want you to be really brave and meet my sister-"

"What?"

"Please, I really want you to meet her if we're going to do this."

Rhys was disapprovingly silent, his breathing becoming writhe with more panic as the seconds went by. Fiona quickly moved back to him, pressing her lips lightly against his forehead. She moved his head to face her eyes, grinning at him while the wide, green orbs begged the damaged man.

"If you do this for me... Words can't begin to tell you how happy I'll be." 

"B-But she doesn't know I'm here!.." Rhys whined in panic like a puppy.

All she had to do was raise an eyebrow at him to make his already panicked eye widen even more. "You can do this." Fiona leaned in close to his ear to whisper, "Especially if you're gonna be staying."

"O-Okay." He replied.

Moving back to picking her clothes up, she opened the door, light properly filling the room. "Thank you, Rhys." Fiona said before exiting her room and making a left into the bathroom.

This was it. 

He stood up, putting his discarded boxers on -- having difficulty picking them up at first. Once he moved onto his pants he started to wonder if he smelt like sweat and sex. Maybe perfume. Even if she just left he wished he could smell her hair again. While she was tumbling over him and moaning. Just the most pleasured noises Rhys had ever had the pleasure of hearing himself.

 _Breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth_. Fiona somehow managed to give the same advice during sex as she did during therapy. They were bizarrely similar -- to him, at least. The fact her scent still stuck to the air like glue helped ease his nerves and trembling legs. That and the smell of oil and syrup from the kitchen.

His shirt was next to go on, something that was surprisingly easy to put on in the absence of an arm. He prayed Fiona told her sister his  _condition_. Rhys' only hand left tied his sleeve into a knot, tightly. He bit his teeth down, feeling the phantom pain ache against the fabric.

Cautiously as ever, he stepped out of the room, lacking his socks, shoes, hoodie and tie. Following his nose, assured that he was welcome. He couldn't remember the last time he ate -- and for that matter when that food wasn't take-out. The man could barley pour a glass of water, let alone cook anything for himself.

His bare feet patted softly against the wood of the caravan's floor at uneven intervals. Sasha greeted this with a comforting smile his way.

"Morning." She chuckled at his bedhead, eyes unable to resist the occasional glance at where a limb should have been. "Rhys, right?"

The noise of the shower turning on behind him made the paranoid man jump. "Yeah." Rhys said, practically inaudibly before moving to sit down on the couch he was on last night. Imagining Fiona was still by his side helped a little.

"Fiona's said a lot about you- I mean, when she did speak. You really had an impact on her. Never seen it before with her. You should consider yourself pretty lucky." She kept her eyes on the frying pan before cracking two eggs into it. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Y-You're making me breakfast?.." He said in disbelief.

"I'm making you breakfast." Sasha confirmed. "So. Eggs?"

"Scrambled, please."

The younger sister grabbed a spatula as she continued talking. "Got some pancakes staying warm in the oven with some bacon, if you like?"

"Yes." He said meekly.

She started to get his plate ready in between cooking the eggs. "How long have you been Fiona's patient now?"

"Six months." He replied before a bout of silence. "How long you been living here?"

"What?"

"Never seen you."

Sasha tried thinking of an excuse to avoid telling him the ugly truth. That she and her sister were actually con-artists who ran a bar in between holding down jobs with qualifications they either stole and forged or paid some kid in his basement to make. It wasn't Sasha's ideal job. She'd rather just the bar. But her sister was very good at what she did. And that made a mint.

Not enough to get out of a caravan.

"I'm out during her sessions. It gives me an excuse to see friends and stuff." She replied, only half lying.

"She talks a lot about me?" Rhys asked.

"You're the  _only_ one she talks about."

He tried not to think about the thought of Fiona with other patients. With anyone else for that matter. The month spent moping while she could have been off with some stud and not him. Rhys had broken too much furniture to the thought of that happening. Anyone touching her or just giving anything he couldn't. And he really couldn't.

"Never..." The man mumbled a bit, "Never said anything bad about me. Right?" 

"If she did I sure as hell haven't heard it."

"She really stop talking?"

"Oh yeah. It was so strange. I imagine she acts a lot more professional round you. But I'd usually have trouble trying to shut her up." Sasha smiled fondly. "And for the past few months she just kinda... froze."

"I'm sorry..."

"Hey, it's not your fault. It's actually kinda nice to see her focus on something other than work. Hasn't been serious with a guy in twelve years."

"Twelve?" Rhys seemed amazed again.

"Believe it or not." She chuckled.

Looking down at his lap, his other hand rubbing the covered stump. Now just thinking about an eighteen year old Fiona and a sixteen year old Rhys. When he had an arm and an eye and could actually talk to girls, or anyone for that matter. Still no family.

Sasha plated his food up, a stack of pancakes with butter, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Grabbing a knife and fork before setting it down on the table -- and only then realizing her error.

"Shit," She winced, taking away the knife, "Sorry, I wasn't thinking-"

"It's okay."

"Do you need any help? I could cut it up for you-"

"It's  _okay_." He repeated, slightly sterner, now looking her in the eyes.

"I really am sorry."

Rhys guided his hand along the table in an attempt to pick up the fork, his lack of an eye limiting his vision. Sasha awkwardly watched him poke at his food before he looked up at her.

"...Do you have any syrup?"

"Syrup, yeah. Coming right up." Sasha said with an embarrassed sigh before stepping back to the kitchen section. Once she grabbed the bottle of maple syrup, she decided it best for the sake of the table to pour it on his food for him. 

At least it made him smile.

Fiona made her way to the front of the caravan, her jacket and hat back on, a satisfied grin on her face. It made Sasha ecstatic to see her sister happy again -- and made Rhys happy just to see her at all. She walked over to where he was sitting and eating his breakfast, taking a seat beside him. Seeing his face grow red when she was close wasn't going to get old quick.

She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, "You can freshen up here when you're finished if you want." Earning a nod in reply.

Sasha remained silent, watching the couple stare at each other, kiss, look so sad occasionally. Both for their own exotic reasons. Two people with secrets cancelling one another out. Someone with no brain damage had no reason to be so recluse, and a therapist had no reason to live in a caravan.

Maybe some of Fiona's guilt was genetic. When Rhys finished his food he went to get undressed and showered. Leaving Sasha to smirk at her sister, waiting for the shower to start up again to drown out their conversation like the water it spouted. 

"Good to know one of us will get a last name that isn't fake." 

Fiona blushed visibly, "Glad to see you two meet. Thanks for cooking for him-"

"He's adorable." Sasha laughed, cutting her partner in crime off. "I don't approve by the way."

"Excuse me?" The older woman replied, "I though I was the overprotective one-"

"I'm happy to have you back, Fi, but this isn't what I meant when I told you to call him round and  _talk_ to him!"

"Yeah, well, I don't need your approval."

"Oh, turning the tables now, are you?"

"Please don't project your own relationship issues on me, you have no idea what the last two months have been like!" Fiona spat back at her in a quite tone. "Besides, you're quick to judge a man you just met."

Sasha pouted, "I'm not judging him. I'm judging you. The one who slept with someone so vulnerable-"

"We didn't just sleep together! We're really giving this a shot."

"With your patient?"

Gloved hands air quoted as Fiona mimicked her sister, " _Patient_."

"You have to tell him. You just have to. I just don't think you can keep this up, and I don't want to think of what that poor guy would do if he ever found out." Sasha had a genuine look of distress on her face -- as she implied what she hoped her sibling would understand.

"This is my job, Sasha. In fact, this is our job. And we're both damn good at it. And even if it fucking burns my heart when I lie to him I am not giving up what we were raised to do."

They glared at one another for a time before calming down, both reflecting on their words as they heard Rhys make his way back to Fiona's room. He emerged, changed, with his tie back on. Sasha looked impressed that he managed to do it up -- but Fiona spent enough time practicing to figure out it really wasn't that hard.

She stood up to see him out. And when he figured that out he looked distressed.

"Hey, it's okay." Fiona cooed him in a soft tone, "I just think we need another session. And as much as I know you'd love to stick around, I need to get things ready."

"B-But I wanna stay with you." He protested.

Leaning her head against where her forehead met his taller figure she sighed. "I know," Fiona quickly reached into her pocket to retrieve her real phone, not one of the disposables she used for jobs. "I'll give you my personal number. You can call me, day or night. Call me when you step out the caravan for all I care." She smiled up at him. 

Rhys timidly punched her details into his own phone, even adding a heart emoji next to her name. It was so cute it made Fiona want to scream at his stupid face.

"Just get changed, come back round at maybe three and we can get a bite to eat after, okay?"

"Okay, Fiona." He actually sounded semi-confident.

She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "Besides. I expect you to stay tonight as well. Maybe bring more than just your phone..." Fiona playfully nibbled his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "I'll see you later."

He walked to the door, not taking his eye off her as he stepped out into the morning heat. Fiona turned to Sasha, who had an unsure look on her face -- arms crossed sternly. The elder sister stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her. It took a second before her sibling hugged back tight.

"Seriously, come on, though. Seeing me happy... I'm sorry I was how I was. But this is what you wanted. I'm... I'm so happy, Sasha." Fiona pleaded as she broke the embrace.

"This is not what I wanted. I wanted my sister back, not with baggage."  She responded before a knock on the caravan door made them both jump.

Fiona sighed behind a chuckle, "Sorry, he's clingy." The con-woman stepped back once again to the door, opening it a crack -- not expecting to see who she saw on the other side. Clad in her officer's uniform, likely off of patrol duty. Dark purple hair and steely eyes that made Fiona nervous.

"Your rent is late." Athena growled.

"Is that what bribery is called nowadays?" Fiona quipped back, gesturing with her hand for Sasha to grab the money reserves.

"No, it's what  _I_ call bribery," She corrected the con-woman. "We both have someone to support. It just so happens that I earn my living by keeping people like you off the police radar." Athena leaned against the door to Fiona's disapproval. "And it would be a shame if someone ever did look into the case of the illegally parked caravan. The one in Downtown Phoenix that never fucking moves."

"A big a shame as someone telling the police that a certain policewoman is harboring an illegal citizen. Same one she can't even scrape together a green card to marry." Fiona hissed back. "Don't threaten my livelihood, I've got too many lives you couldn't even dent."

Athena made a fake shocked look, "God, when did you grow a backbone? Thought baby sister was handling the business for the last two months?"

" _Crickey_." Fiona replied in a poor Australian accent. "Maybe I brought one?"

The officer looked much angrier than before. Almost made Fiona want to take her words back before Sasha handed her sister $750 in cash. She quickly handed it to Athena before slamming the door. That really was a dent in their earnings -- but at least it was worth it to one of them.

"Remember, you don't _ever_ come near our home until you're due!" She shouted through the closed door as she heard Athena's footsteps thunder down the alley. All while her younger sister watched in disgust. Tired of the shady business, the lies, the bribery. 

Sasha opened the door to sister's surprise. "I'm going to the bar. Tell Rhys I said hi." Before Fiona could speak up the door was slammed again. This time in her face.

 

 

> _03:47pm_

 

 

"Two months ago you told me you imagined life without me." 

Rhys nodded in reply, shifting in the chaise lounge slightly.

Fiona took in a deep breath, "I asked you how that made you feel. I never asked what it looked like. I know you were sad when you left, we both were. But say I ask you again, being how we are now. What would it be like?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Like before... nothing."

"I mean, I think I'd at least try to go back into business like I am now. Mostly because of some angry clients from absence and me abandoning their cases..." Fiona grinned awkwardly, earning no rise from Rhys.

He groaned and slumped back, making an occasional noise of discomfort he was used to by now.

"But this is about us. And I want this to work, I do. But hearing that you have nothing without me. How do you think that makes me feel, Rhys?"

"It's true." 

She closed her eyes, thinking back on the day and what Sasha told her. How she was sitting here, now -- earning money from clients, sure. But all to keep her relationship with him as real as possible without him ever knowing. All he's told her, every detail. In confidence, something couples married for 50 years wouldn't even speak of.

Even if he was hiding something.

"If we're going to be normal, and if we both can't function without one another then maybe we turn these sessions into... I don't know what to call it without sounding like an asshole."

That made him smirk a little.

"When we're here, for one hour, we're allowed to be as brutally honest about one another. And when we hang out, date, screw each other's brains out and just be together outside the office." She sighed. "We keep some kind of confidentiality. This only happened between us, like how I wouldn't tell anyone about our previous sessions."

"I-I think I can do that." Rhys nodded.

Fiona smiled before moving over to him, sitting beside him. He moved in close to kiss her, trying to find a comfortable position to tilt his head before locking his mouth onto her's. She gripped onto his jacket to pull him in closer, their hearts in a synchronized rhythm. They mutually pulled away from the kiss, looking at each other's features for the longest time.

"Dinner?" She finally said in a wavering voice.

"Dinner." He agreed with a small grin on his face.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FtvwLSWBx0
> 
> -
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to come out again (if you're reading this when it did come out), I've been struggling with some writer's block. Not as bad as the months I took off awhile back but still pretty bad. Thanks for waiting.
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com

The walk into downtown was exciting now he wasn't doing it alone. The light heat trapped between buildings and tarmac on his exposed skin hidden in the twilight, the noises of cars and people all radiated louder. Striking deeper in his heart like a stake now she held his hand. Rhys and Fiona both got prepared before they left -- and, basked in the moonlight and neon, the pair felt like showing off.

She had taken him to a tailor as soon as they left. Spoiling him, making him look as fashionable as possible, much to the man's protest. Though it didn't stop from wearing a tartan, dark gray full suit. His short jacket sewn with black buttons that matched the ones on his vest. A plain, white shirt adorned with a crimson tie sprinkled with orange diamond shapes.

Simple, metal cuff-links that held one shirt sleeve in place, the wrists staying out of his jacket while also acting as a pin for the two sleeves he had to have folded for the absence of an arm. From matching pants and a black, leather belt, as well as oxfords, made him look quite dapper. 

Fiona had spent a lot on the both of them, after all. The woman wore a pencil stripe cranberry vest over a pink striped shirt. Big, golden cuff-links heavy on her wrists. Her pants were charcoal, as were her heeled suit shoes. And the way her red lipstick and shadow shone when revealed from her black hat with a red band made Rhys want to drool before dinner.

"I can't believe you actually let me groom your hair." She said while admiring his slicked back hair and light stubble.

"Why?" Rhys asked, furrowing his brow, still nervous from actually being out.

"It's not exactly something I ever thought I'd be doing again." 

"Again?"

"When we were younger, me and Sasha used to style each other's hair." Fiona replied, fond memories now jogging around her head.

He found himself smiling just a bit at the thought. For as much as he's told her about his childhood, she had never mentioned her own. Not that she ever had a reason to. And Rhys was either to content with the woman beside him now or too oblivious to mention it. 

"Sounds really sweet... You're lucky." 

Nodding a bit, she beamed up at his taller figure. "I'm sure it's something like that." She teased.

They turned a corner, clearly moving into a better area of Downtown, away from cheap looking bars tucked behind towering business centers. Like the one she and her sister had sunk money into, in a back alley. But a life of crime seemed to literally pay off, facing a multitude of expensive, five star restaurants dotted along the streets.

Before long, the couple was facing a Japanese restaurant -- authentic for anything in a desert state. Making any sushi bar Rhys ever dined at look like a slum in comparison. 

"Usotsuki to kiki?" He attempted to pronounce the name that was embroiled in big, red letters lit up by small spotlights beneath it. "Looks so... fancy." 

"It is." Fiona laughed. The last time she was here was during a job, stealing access to a bank building for it's ex-board-member who felt entitled. He clearly didn't need the money considering how much he spent here and paid the sisters.

He looked at her, clearly nervous, trembling a bit. "Why Japanese?"

Leaning closer to him, she purred, "Because you only need one hand for chopsticks."

Rhys' heart fluttered as he heard this, still not imbuing him with confidence. Just a strange lust for her. He was still as a statue outside the restaurant, briefly, clearly scared. But as soon as he felt her thumb and painted nail rub against his hand still tightly around his the nerves started to collect themselves. Her smile sealing any remorse left, making him share it. 

Confidently -- or as brave as they could look, the man and woman walked in, immediately hit by the air conditioning. Noises of other diners talking, chefs preparing food in spectacular manors before their eyes made Rhys surprisingly excited. He also took some comfort in the fact they no longer stood out like they did in the streets against the clean white and customers, at best wealthy, and at worse doing business deals. 

Fiona approached the maître d', a small Asian man with a big grin. With reason estimating how much he was likely tipped. It lowered once he saw Rhys' condition though.

"Do you have reservations?" He asked quickly.

"Yes we do." Fiona said, maybe a little too proud. "Fiona." She stated, always opting never to use her last name during reservations. First names are ambiguous, last names are easier to track.

Looking down at the computer before him, he nodded with confirmation. "You're table is the middle, near the corner. Though our waiters are busy tonight, someone will be ready to serve you in fifteen minutes. Have a nice night."  

The con artist cleared her throat as she unbuttoned her purse. With a steady hand, she slipped the man a $100 bill and said in a lower tone, "Or, you serve us right now? At least get us our drinks first..."

He looked back at Rhys, not for the first time, who looked just as conflicted as he did -- also checking he wouldn't be waiting up any potential customers. "I _suppose_ I could show you to your table." The maître d' said quietly as he took the bill and stuffed it in his pocket.

They followed as he lead them to a small table, with two chairs on either side. It was humble -- it wasn't a place with a view of the chefs though. But it was almost isolated in it's own romantic station. Their seats creaked and groaned across the wooden floor as they took them, eyes now looking at the menus before them. A list of beverages and their traditional Japanese names beneath them.

Rhys was just happy that no one was gawking at him yet. Just sitting at their own tables, talking, laughing, ignoring each other. Fiona had once told him during therapy that no one really cared his condition. More of a blessing than a curse for him. Even if she meant it the other way. 

"What's the most expensive cocktail you have?" Fiona asked, smirking at Rhys. 

"Most expensive? That would be the Pacific Atoll, it's a house take on a Umetini, using imported four parts gin to six parts aged umeshu made on Shikoku. Though we add one-part curaçao for color-"

"Yeah, cool. But how much is it?" Fiona interrupted. 

"For one?"

She looked to Rhys and he just shook his head a little. Which the head waiter noticed also.

"It's twenty-five dollars."

"Twenty-five bucks? For a drink?" Fiona laughed a bit, "Yeah, I'll have that."

"And for you, sir?"

Rhys sunk in his chair a bit, "I-I'll just have a beer. Dry."

"Excellent choices. I'll get them now." The maître d' bowed before heading away.

The armless man looked around the building, taking in the sounds and smell of fresh fish and rice that hung in the air. He looked to Fiona, still smiling smugly, looking fancier than the restaurant ever could, to him at least. His head hung low as he looked at the menu nervously. He could practically hear his bone adjusting like static in the back of his neck.

She was too busy looking at him to even pay attention to the dishes available. He had come so far, she was almost proud. Doing more than therapy probably could. But the baggage and aftermath would be questionable to someone with a license. And the money she took from his pocket.

Her mind tried to run away from the guilt, subconsciously knowing a suit and dinner. No matter how much it cost didn't hold a price in comparison to the bitter truth. One that she'd considered taking to her grave at this point. And even that brought up thoughts of her and Rhys, together until that time. And that soothed the guilt accompanying it away.

"This when people normally talk?" He asked, interrupting Fiona's train of thought.

What would be a joke to break the ice was clearly genuine coming from him. It was almost fascinating how much of him was taken and how much remained. He sat properly, had polite table manners -- even if choosing between a knife and fork. Yet he missed words when he talked, forgot so many emotions. Like he gained disability in every area the accident affecting him.

"...I always wanted to ask you something." Fiona started talking upon his request. "You have tattoos, all across your chest and arm, even going up your neck a bit. Why?"

Rhys looked as somber as his tone, "Thought they'd cover it up. Cover it all."

"But, they're on the wrong side-"

"I know. Rather, if someone had to look at me, I want them to see something that isn't me, y'know? Not me, it's just -- on me."

"They're beautiful, Rhys." Fiona smiled warmly, "Really."

He pursed his lips and nodded a bit, going back to his menu.

"Took me by surprise a bit, when I saw them on you. Good surprise, though-"

"Fiona..." He whined.

"I'm sorry." She put her hands on her face, rubbing her eyes. "It's just, I have so much more to tell you about me, but... Everything about you-" Fiona sighed, "You didn't  _exactly_ have a choice when you told me. During our sessions- our original sessions. And sometimes I just want us forget those."

"Why would I wanna forget? They were the best times of my life." Rhys smiled once more.

His words made her reach across the table, making him do the same, holding his hand. "You're cheesy in the most fucked up way." She teased. 

"Is that good?" He asked.

"It's you." Fiona replied simply.

The maître d' returned, causing them to sit back in their chairs. He held a tall bottle of beer in one hand and a very expensive cocktail in the other, placing them in front of the couple. He took their drinks menu and took a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket. "Ready to order?"

 

 

> _10 Minutes Later_

 

 

Fiona grew impatient as soon as they ordered. She started to wonder if you could bribe someone to cook faster before it arrived on their table. It wasn't cheap either, but she could afford it, surprising both of them. But her drink being so deliciously sweet and bitter on her tongue had made it worth the money.

"How can you afford this?.. If that's okay for me to say." Rhys asked while raising a chopstick shepherding noodles into his mouth.

"Therapy is a very lucrative business." She said, also eating, not as verse with chopsticks as he was. Real therapy probably was. Even if she charged more than someone with a license and a real office. But this lucrative, unfiltered spending was like Christmas; something that only came around every few months for her and Sasha.

"Really?" 

She nodded as he looked down at himself and her, noting her informal mannerism compared to his he picked up from days long gone. Like patchwork in comparison to the Sistine Chapel. If his brain weren't so damaged he may have had the nerves to question if she'd done this before. But instead he made the semblance of a joke.

"Makes me feel cheap... Lady and the Tramp..." Rhys laughed a bit, sheepishly, scratching at his jacket.

"The Therapist and the Welfare-Sponge." Fiona joking mocked, raising her glass and making him smile wider, showing some teeth. She didn't know if he understood. It just made her feel warmer than alcohol ever could to see him grin. "Tramp lived on his own, I think. Always been that way for you, hasn't it?"

Her question was genuine -- but the reference didn't soften the impact. But it clearly had little to no effect on him.

"Not really. Even even when I was in the orphanage. Happens I wasn't there for bad reasons."

"Kansas City, right? Missouri?"

Nodding in reply, Rhys took a sip from the glass he poured.

She remembered him talking about his experiences during therapy. He got on well with very few people, but that didn't stop him from being a social, normal kid. No idea something so terrible would happen in the future. Though she supposed people don't go through their lives expecting to be hit by cars or mugged.

"Bad reasons?"

"Others were bad. Parents left them, had a choice. That kinda thing."

"Did they ever hurt you?"

"No. Not me."

"But others?" She asked slowly.

He nodded again, "Glad I didn't stick around. School, college, work. And I was _really_ good at work."

An engineer for Hyperion, working his way up. Wanted to run the company if the current owner wasn't practically a ghost haunting Arizona, leaving the big apple. Not that she was going to remind him of that after what happened to him. It must have been tough to have something you love cause you so much pain.

"I've been in Maricopa years now. But I'm from up-north. Proud Arizonan." She chuckled. "Always me and Sasha. Well -- there was one other. Felix. He was like a father to us, even if he wasn't at the same time. But he's gone now. Not dead, just gone."

Fiona stopped, noticing Rhys had dropped his chopsticks, his mouth clamped shut. His eye had widened, twitching in it's socket just as he was, jittering the table slightly. His face had gone completely pale, and it took awhile for her to notice that the entire restaurant had gone silent as well, save for murmuring and whispers.

She slowly turned around, facing the entrance that wasn't too far off, noticing what they were looking at. You usually have to speak the devils name before he appears, not just think of him. She knew Rhys worked for Hyperion. And she knew just what he put him through, but no one was ever expecting to her see  _him_.

Everyone had heard all about the middle aged man, with two young women who had his arms tangled around their waists like tentacles. Apparently adopting the moniker 'Handsome Jack' after a botched plastic surgery. Vanity issues. And no one had even heard him enter the building. He really was like a ghost.

And tabloid rumor aside, real or not, there he was, in the flesh, walking in like he owned the place. And from talking with what she assumed was the owner and the staff, all of which rushed out to see the celebrity, he might as well just did. Fiona turned back, looking at the horror on her boyfriend's face.

"Oh, Rhys... I'm _so_ sorry." She said, filled with remorse and pity. 

His voice boomed across the restaurant, making most people jump. "Alright, listen up, kiddos! I just brought this place and I'm not lookin' for company! Complementary doggy bags for y' food on the way out. Think of it like takeout, but with the disappointment comin' before you eat it." He chuckled before lowering his voice and let go of the women by his side. "And get some dumplings for my lady friends on their way out."

"W-We don't serve dumplings, sir." The maître d' stuttered in reply.

"Whatever." Jack replied walking toward the dining area before turning. "Wait, what am I talking about; you do now, I own the place." He laugh before placing his fingers in his mouth and attempting to whistle, but just blowing on his fingers. "Fuck -- never got how people did that, just makes me want to gag. But yeah, point still stands: buying, doggy bags, dumplings, get out!" 

Customers briskly stood up and chefs returned to their stations, all moving towards the door at varying speeds. Fiona and Rhys did the same, having to help the stunned man up from his chair. She could feel him shaking all over, like he was freezing to death.

Just as the tide of people parted, and the two ready to join them, they heard that voice boom again. Rhys stiffened up, lip quivering as he saw him look right at him. It was like how a bear would look at a salmon trying to swim upstream. It made him want to scream. 

"Ho-ly shit! No way!" The billionaire made his way past the people and towards the couple, shoes even more expensive than even their's screeching across the floor. "If it isn't The Six Million Dollar Man. I mean, before the bionic implants and such, still, nice reference." He let out a please noise. "What's ya name... I wanna say Troy? Something with a y in it." Jack suddenly looked more stern at both of them. "...Sit down." His voice was almost jesting.

Feeling his heart race as Fiona let go of him, they both obeyed, sitting in their places. His eye was locked on his former-boss, feeling tears well that he forced back. Though his fear was hard to hide. Fiona tried to make him look at her, her heel rubbing his leg under the table to gain his attention. 

"Cat got ya tongue?" Jack mocked before turning to Fiona, "Wait, he's still got a tongue, right?" He asked pointing at Rhys while looking at her. "God, you're beautiful, I'll get onto that later- God, kiddo... Look at the side of ya face. It's like y'got baptized in acid or some shit. Or was it always looking like that? Janitors aren't known to look good. Just only time I saw it before the bandages had a lot of screaming."

"Don't you know a guy that could fix him up?" The con artist interrupted bitterly, not standing seeing someone already so worn down get sharpened a little more.

The older man grinned weakly at her words, clearly holding back some anger. That all but seemed to boil away when he looked at her. "You two look very sharp. But I doubt my money paid for that. What's ya name, sweet cheeks?"

"Not your business."

"Everything in this state is _my_ business. Christ alive, do I hate it here. The heat, the desert, the freakin' locals!" He leaned on the table, blocking Rhys' view of Fiona.  "Girls aren't bad though." Jack smiled lustfully, taking her in from hat to the stern look on her face. "But you -- all that fire in y' eyes. Come back to New York with me and I'd give _you_ everything."

Rhys had a clear reaction to his words -- audibly swallowing, humming in dissatisfaction, looking angry. Very angry. Something Fiona hadn't expected to ever see. The woman was looking for was some tell as she tried not to punch Jack. The alien environment was growing more so by the second. It was stabbing at her like chopsticks.

"I," He starting talking louder, fists balled, with a panicked breath before each word, "am not a fucking janitor."

Jack turned to face the terrified man, making him jump and shaking the plates and wooden bowls still on the table. "Honestly, with the amount of money an arm and an eye cost us, I couldn't give a shit if you were your pretty friend over here."

"You  _ruined_ me!.." Rhys sputtered, almost sobbing over his words. "Everything I had! Can't work, can't even sleep!"

"This before or after wallet-head had his little show of dominance? He's still missing by the way, got police breathing down our fucking necks daily." He laughed a bit, "More than usual, I mean."

"Both." He replied slowly, the mention of his former boss and his situation making his heart close to explode.

"I think you're blaming the wrong people, kiddo. It was business. One of my tools broke, I needed compensation as much as you did." 

"His life, his well-being. That's, what, your God-damn appliance?" Fiona asked in disgust.

"Yeah." Jack replied quickly, still glaring at Rhys.

She let out a weary breath before they all stood in silence for a minute. As if they were locked in a Mexican standoff. The CEO reacted first, moving his arm off the table and stretching a bit. Looking at Rhys, whose eye was filled with the tears that now freely flowed, Fiona started to feel her own face quiver from shock.

"No dessert?" The middle-aged man asked sarcastically, turning on his heel. "Guess I'll be leaving then. No -- wait, that's your job. Fuck off, I'm hungry." 

They stood up with lightning speed, Fiona immediately dashing to her partner and making their way towards the exit. Fiona cradled him while he shook even more than before. Unless some of the vibrations came from her. As they made their way past the head waiter, Jack spoke up again, talking to her.

"I hate to see you go." He teased, eyes scanning her body. "But I  _love_ to watch you leave." His phone starting ringing, and as soon as he answered it was as if the two didn't exist. "Tim? How's my Angel?-"

Hearing him laugh at his own attempts of flirting one last time, they stepped back out into the street. The heat was like a blanket that even managed to coo Rhys momentarily. But it couldn't stop him from bending over, retching on the sidewalk until his expensive meal was back out of him. Mouth even more bitter than the words he had just heard.

Fiona started to gently shush him past his cries, affecting her as much as it did him. She was repulsed from their encounter -- from more than just his advances. It was harrowing to sit through that, just being there like another piece of nice looking furniture. Unable to even picture what it must have been like for her fragile partner.

There clearly were things he hadn't told her yet. But it was irrelevant now. She was worried about what was going to happen in the long term. Knowing Handsome Jack was in Arizona doesn't help if he has trouble going to a restaurant without someone with him.

"I hate him! I fucking _hate_ him!.." Rhys yelled, standing up properly again. Clearly not caring if anyone who passed by heard or saw him.

Maybe that was a good thing.

"I know... I know..." She said, replying to both statements while nodding along with his heavy breathing, clearly having some kind of panic attack. "I need a drink." The con artist sighed, hugging him tightly before taking his hand in her's. "Come on I think I know a place."

 

 

> _18 Minutes Later_

 

 

After a long commute with watching eyes at every turn they finally arrived at The Purple Coyote. The pub that Fiona and Sasha had invested money in before buying it all together. It's owner was August, a man they were originally tasked to con. But things changed. To Rhys, it was just a local place his girlfriend happened to know about, it's plum colored neon sign lighting up the alley it was squashed between.

Fiona counted them lucky it was quite tonight. Seemed either they closed earlier or people would rather go somewhere else. Not that she could blame them. It was just as hot inside as it was outside, no cool breeze of air conditioning to greet the couple. Just two more people; the younger sister and the owner.

The pub itself had seen better days. Amid the hue of florescent bulbs was a purple and green tint among the mismatching red carpet and barrels propped up as tables. The dust was practically palpable, she was almost able to taste it. It brought her back to a past of living on the streets. 

Sometimes she missed it.

"Fiona?" Sasha asked, turning from a bar-stool facing the counter as she heard a familiar creak of the door.

"We're closed." August yelled from behind the bar, cleaning glasses and paying no attention to the women.

"It's fine, August, it's my sister."

He shrugged, "Still closed."

Upon spotting Rhys, Sasha knew something wasn't right. Especially looking as he did. "God, what happened? And why are you dressed like assholes?"

"Long story. Happy to tell it over a drink." Fiona called to August.

"Closed." The man repeated.

"Actual owner." She replied, placing Rhys down on a stool beside the one her sister was sitting on. "Nice to finally meet you." Her words were laced in sarcasm and worry.

"Likewise." August groaned, now looking at Rhys. "What'd y' want, big guy?"

"Beer, vodka, gin, coke, don't care..."

Fiona hoped he referred to the soft drink given his history. "Just get him something strong, August. Whatever you got."

As he went to look for whatever had the highest alcohol content, Sasha sat back down, rubbing Rhys' back.

"You okay, Rhys? What happened."

"Just had a run-in with Satan." Fiona replied for him.

"What?" Sasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Handsome Jack. Boss' boss." Rhys spoke up, lip quivering, "Took my money, my job, my friends." He put his hand over his eyes. "Hate him..." The young man kept muttering to himself in repeat.

"Sash, can we talk?" The older sister asked.

"No. He needs you more than you need me right now." Sasha sounded angry as she mouthed 'I told you' to her sibling.

August put a glass of neat liquid before his own boss' boyfriend, pouring one for her as well. He took it down with his shaking hand in one gulp, looking as if he was gasping for water afterwards. Fiona took her own, smelling it a bit before downing it as her partner did.

"Is this fucking moonshine?" Fiona asked with a cough.

"That, like, beyond your moral compass or something?" The owner spat back before going back to cleaning.

"And you'd know a lot about morals, would you?"

"Plenty more than you do from what I've heard." He replied, nodding in a gesture to the man now nursing on his second glass. His eyes then moved to Sasha, making him smirk a bit.

Sasha returned the gesture -- the interaction giving Fiona questions and making her blood boil. She finally sat down by Rhys, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms tightly around him. The only thing that could ever stop him shaking, it seemed. 

"I'm heading home. I'll see you two there, I guess. I'll make you some coffee ready." Sasha said in a lighter tone, giving one last smirk to August before making her way out the door. 

Footsteps still echoed as August took the bottle away from the couple and back on the shelf. "You can lock up. Don't suppose I have much reason to stick 'round now. Hope things get better, big guy."

With that; the two were left alone. Only hearing the other man head upstairs to his apartment. Their drinks finished, silence surrounding them other than the fizz of the bulbs above them. Fiona moved close to kiss his cheek, feeling stubble against her lips.

Her mouth hang open before the words finally came out. "I know you don't wanna talk about it. But  _he_ mentioned that your boss is missing. Did you know?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you ever mention it?"

Slowing starting to bite down the space between his teeth, looking away from her so she faced his damaged eye. "Blamed the right people."

 

 

> _4 Hours Later_

 

 

He was in his dreams. Stabbing him at the restaurant with a knife used to gut fish while she just watched and laughed along. Pain finally hit arm that wasn't even there, and he awoke. Writhing among the bed sheets and crying out as Fiona tried to comfort him, barley able to see Sasha's frame in the caravan doorway.

Fiona was asking for her to get pain killers, and he could barley tell if she even wanted to get them. Any sympathy was undetectable to him, even if it was there is spades. It was as if he were reliving the worst days of his life again -- and even then, there were far too many to count.

It took long before he was in the fetal position, his partner practically clinging to him for dear life in any attempt to sooth him. Hearing the rattling of draws and hiss of the tap running water into a dirty glass. She closed her eyes along with him, barley able to contain her anger as one thing became clear.

She _hated_  Hyperion. But not as much, ever, as she hated Handsome Jack.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1gPDWWp-Mg
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do try not to make this a monthly thing...
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com

 

 

> _Outside of Anthem, Arizona_
> 
> _Wednesday, 11:02am_
> 
> _Two Weeks after the encounter_

 

 

It was cooler outside the city. But not by much. Rather than the heat from car exhausts mixing in the sunlight trapped between the air in the skyscrapers carrying the smell of carbon, their skin was burning as nature intended. Bullets of sweat beading the brows of Rhys, Fiona and Sasha.

The caravan was parked lazily by the shore of Lake Pleasant beside a purple prickly pear cactus making up an assortment of dry browns and greens dotted in the boiling ground. The lakeside surrounded the trio, stretching far across the desert, like a bleeding wound of azure cut through the body of sand.

Of course, the imposing nature didn't stop man -- people of all ages enjoying a retreat from city life had brought it along with them. Boats replacing cars along a road of water, the faint scent of charring meats from a barbecue in the distance was better than than man-made smoke. But given the temperature, carrion could just as easily broil and cook under the sun.

Sasha was ready to join the cooks they couldn't see. Even if they could it was likely a mirage. She had set up a small grill, bringing an assortment of sausages, burger patties and chicken along the excursion in their freezer. It was long overdue, and anything was a good excuse to avoid paying Athena's rent.

Lounging on a large, wooden sunbed, Fiona sipped from a tall glass of lime milkshake. One hand held hard against the surface, dripping condensation from the ice afloat in the zesty drink. Her boyfriend was beside her doing the same. And while she bathed in the glow while running her free fingers ran through Rhys' brown hair playfully. Nails lazily close to his ears, filling them with an incandescent scratching sound.

Tiny particles of sand had clung to the couple's skin, their tank tops and the thin, hooded top that the damaged man insisted on wearing. All that was eventually carried along in the humid breeze. In too much bliss to care or notice anything but the heat their combined warmth against one another produced. Their solace interrupted by the younger sister calling to them. 

"How do you like your burgers, Rhys?" She called from the shore.

Before an attempt at replying, the man squirmed and shifted a bit, only stopping when to his side at the bright face smiling at him. "I dunno, however Fiona has her's, I guess." He stuttered back, just loud enough to be heard across the rocks and plants.

"You say the cutest things, you just have no idea." Fiona hummed while tickling the back of his ear.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean -- well, were you always so oblivious to things? Before.. you know."

Rhys shook his head, rubbing against Fiona's chest as he did.

She sounded slightly guilty, "Mind me asking?" 

"Don't blame you." He shrugged.

The con artist planted a kiss on his scalp before speaking again, tasting the heat from the sun on his skin against her lips. "What d'ya think of the view?"

Letting out a long breath, he turned slightly, watching the lake sparkle against the windswept sand. "It's nice."

"Helping?"

He nodded again, smiling for just a second. "Thanks. Bringing me here and all."

"Any excuse to get away from city, right?" Fiona replied, "Besides, Sasha loves it."

"The desert?"

Fiona found that amusing. "No. All of us together."

She watched her sibling toil at the barbecue, wearing the same style jean shorts as her. Except hers weren't rubbing against Rhys' pants. And, although happy, some underlying discomfort lingered -- as it always did. The elder never let her bring anyone along -- any _men_ that was. But Sasha hadn't protested Rhys' invitation at all. Either pity due to his condition or knowing full well what he had been through just two weeks earlier.

Most family are naturally overprotective. But somewhere along the lines, an odd job or two, Fiona found the extremes of being better safe than sorry. Even Rhys had caught on after his first visit to the bar. A general unease around the owner against Sasha's obvious interests in the man. He didn't see the point of denying feelings. But in his condition he wouldn't even know how.

"She wants me here?" Rhys asked timidly.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Nothing. Just, 'cause it's me, I guess."

"You're much better company than you think you are. Don't think you'll ever realize that, but it's true." 

The man chortled, shaking his head, his eye wandering off, "I used to be such a dick."

Gesturing with her drink and adjusting her sunhat before taking another sip, she replied in a teasing fashion, "I could believe that." She grinned down at him.

"Wonder sometimes... if you'd still like me."

"You wouldn't need me, technically. No reason to know me, right?" Fiona sighed.

"Don't like that." He whined a little.

"Me neither, but it's true. And I'd rather you were happy and whole again than ever meet me. I think some part of me could live with that, if I knew."

"-Couldn't." Rhys shook his head again, "I couldn't."

Her brow lowered in sadness at the truth in his words. It almost maddened her, the though that he could only sing to a crowded room if he knew she was in the audience. Sasha told her once they were 'true altruists with bad intentions.' Only doing something for someone other than themselves, always. But it's for one specific person. I love you? I hate you? They'd be one in the same for Fiona when talking to Rhys. If she ever had the courage to even tell him that.

"We'll talk about this later, okay? Due another session anyway." She hugged him tightly in one arm.

He nodded in reply. Not that he ever could say no to her or begin to protest. 

Sasha suddenly called over again, "Food's ready! And hurry up, it's monsoon season."

"We aren't getting rain!" Fiona called back, getting up slowly and holding Rhys' hand as he did. "We _never_ get rain."

They walked briskly over to the lakeside, their feet patting against the sand, crunching as if it were snow. A few cheap, polka dotted deckchairs awaiting their arrival. He sat down in one almost immediately, still grasping tightly to Fiona's hand as if it was the only thing keeping oxygen and blood pumping to his brain.  

It was amusing in a melancholy way to the two women when he had to let go in favor of holding a burger. But he didn't seem to complain in the moment. There was some catharsis from watching him eat anything, only picking at food over the last fortnight. Avoiding breakfast, even returning to his apartment, away from Fiona for the first week.

She worried he was using again, that or trying to overdose on the medley of medication he had stashed in little boxes in cupboards. Sasha had to move the caravan just so her sister could slam on his door for half an hour to no avail. When he did come out, she even came very close to telling him the truth.

Their real lives, what his welfare money had originally gone to. But then, looking to Fiona's face, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Deny her what her sister had done originally.

"What's the plan?" Sasha asked while placing their food on paper plates and gesturing to the lanky man with a spatula. "Rhys gonna stay with us again?"

"That's what I had in mind, yeah." Fiona replied as she took her meal. "That a problem?"

"Not for me. Just wondering..." She lowered her voice, "If _rent_ might go up if there's another wallet in our home."

Her reply was equally hushed, "I think we'll just cross that bridge when we get there."

"Winging it never usually works out for us, Fi."

"I don't care what that bitch does, I'm not risking any of us-"

"You're risking us by being out here. Hell, you're risking Rhys finding out everything, and he would if Athena had her way, right?"

Fiona pursed her lips before replying, "Don't bring him into this."

"I think it's about time we did." Sasha admitted. "He's like... I dunno -- family. And he's not safe getting dragged back with us."

"Well, he is not going anywhere after what happened to him, alright? Even if he is home, I just... don't know if I trust him alone."

"Hey, I'm not saying that-"

"So what are you saying then? Because he's staying, alright? Whether you are or not." Fiona hissed defensively.

Sasha glared at her sister, grinding her teeth as she did, their tense staring contest interrupted by a familiar timid voice from behind them. 

"What's wrong?.." Rhys asked.

Shimmering more than the water; it was amazing how much emotion he was able to show from just one eye. A partly closed eyelid atop dark rings, a curiosity subset by a negative view of the world he accompanied. It kept them both quite for a second, calming Fiona down in the process.

"Nothing. Really, it's nothing." The older sister spoke up, moving to sit by her boyfriend in another chair.

Unease crept back again, this time being much closer. She never usually fought at all with Sasha, but, then again, Fiona had never had someone else to care about. The idea of having to choose between them stung like a barb. Yet, a part of her still knew who should she would if it ever came to it.

Perhaps it was bias -- maybe love could be measured. Maybe she'd wake up in a month's time and her mind would have changed. Or maybe a month from now one of them would be gone. The only thing stopping Rhys from leaving her was the truth. And the only thing stopping Sasha was her name on the caravan's insurance.

"We might have some trouble when we get back." The kid sister chose to reply in earnest to him. "Nothing to do with you. It's just better you stay out of it." 

He swallowed his bite of food hard, wincing a bit in confusion. "O-Okay."

Sharing a look with her sibling, any protest perspiring like the water on her glass, now resting on the sand. "Really?" Fiona asked. "So if I asked you to stay in the caravan awhile would you be okay with that."

Rhys just shrugged a bit, "I'd do anything for you..." He avoided looking at their befuddled expressions.

His girlfriend, now with an embarrassed look, took the chance to lean on his shoulder, the psychical contact with her yet again making that little smile return for longer this time.

"Guess I expected some protest." Sasha chuckled.

"Why?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're oblivious?" 

"Yeah," He nodded, "Fiona did a few minutes ago."

Fiona let out a satisfied purr against him behind a smug smile, interrupting them both. "Mm... I dunno then. Maybe not _so_ much, I think."

 

 

> _Downtown Phoenix_
> 
> _12:45pm_

 

 

A bumpy trek back to the city took longer than expected. The quick change of temperature always came as a shock -- that and the crowds of people in this pocket of civilization someone decided to build in the desert. Concrete cracked beneath the caravan's tires as they approached their usual space. 

That familiar blaze of purple hair in a tight fitting police uniform was there. But with company, a taller woman that didn't look happy to be arguing with the other. Sasha stopped the vehicle just before them, their presence didn't even budge the heated conversation that was muffled behind windows.

Fiona let out a pleased uproar of laughter, "Oh-ho-ho, this is gonna be good!" She exclaimed, beaming and almost gripping onto the sides of her seat in a twisted excitement.

Rhys didn't understand -- but seeing her smile made him do the same.

Sasha smirked along with her, arms folded for a moment before she slowly honked the horn at the couple, making them jump. "Know the blonde one?" She asked her sister.

"Oh yeah." The other woman replied.

"She know Athena?"

"She  _loves_ Athena..." Fiona teased in correction. 

"And just how do you know?" 

"Heard her mention her once." She leaned closer to Sasha, "And I followed her home once to see if there was much worth stealing."

Sasha raised a curious eyebrow before Fiona shook her head dismissively. Her attention averted to her own partner, looking sheepish past the smile, as if trying to put on a brave face. She turned her chair to face him, watching him almost dangle that noodle arm off the stair's railing.

"Just stay in here for a bit, make yourself comfortable. We wont be long, alright?" Fiona soothed.

"B-But there's a police officer."

Her eyes wandered off as an excuse tried to claw it's way out of her pursed mouth. She let out a long breath, "Jumped up meter maid that comes round here sometimes. Don't worry about us. Really."

Rhys sighed in disapproval, moving to sit down on the couch with a grumpy demeanor. 

"Okay, now what's the plan?" Sasha asked.

"I'm going to try insult my way out of paying rent for a corrupt cop and you're going to have my back if you need to disarm her. You know, stuff we're both good at." The older sister whispered.

"Been awhile since we did anything together."

"You mean job-wise?"

"Yeah." 

They both started moving to the door, Fiona leading. "Thought you said you wanted to leave it behind?"

"Well, if this is the only time we spend together anymore then I'll take yanking a bullet out of you than house-hunting."

The con artist looked even more guilty than usual, "Sash-"

"I know now isn't the best time, but I was honest with Rhys so I'm gonna be honest with you. I need someone, Fiona. Seeing you so happy, well it makes me think about myself, what I want. And when my overprotective sister doesn't approve of anyone else then I don't have many options." Sasha felt the world had just be shifted from her shoulders.

"I just... don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm already hurt plenty. So yeah, that's it. Now, let's go."

Fiona rubbed her face in her hands and nodded in reconcile. Trying her best to push that brief conversation to the back of her mind before opening the door and closing it behind them. Walking out with her sister by her side. Their petty grins had returned from hearing the collective yelling that filled the alley just a few feet before them. 

"-And just how long have y' been sneakin' out?!" The Australian woman screeched, making Athena wince.

"I-I-I just thought-" Athena blabbered.

"Oh, fuck off, I doubt you're even capable of thought..." Her girlfriend said, distraught, "I can't believe you, always lyin', constantly. Do y'hate me, Athena?"

"You know now, isn't that enough?!" 

"You still did it!"

Clearing her throat, Fiona gained their attention, " 'Ello, ello, ello, what's all this then?" She mocked.

"Wrong accent, Fi." Sasha interjected.

"Still counts."

"Don't test me, darlin', I'm about ready to get back into knife fightin' and you don't look the sort to carry one let alone use one."

Fiona looked behind her shoulder, Sasha giving her a little thumbs up to continue. 

"Athena's testing you enough, right?"

"Shut your fucking mouth, tramp!" The police woman spat out. "Janey, ignore her, please-" 

"And just who is she?" The taller woman barked.

"Oh shit, you don't know? Oh. So you don't know why she's sneaking around behind your back either?"

Janey's fists balled together in anger, her eyes getting glassy as she put two and two together. "Athena. You're not...

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no. God no!.." Fiona laughed. "Tell her, Athena. I mean, honestly, that's repayment enough -- the look on her face."

The purple haired woman was close to shaking from anger. Already popping blood vessels in her eyes. "I..." She started, looking to her partner, "I take their money and in return I keep the rest of the department off their backs."

"You steal people's money? Take bribes, break the law?" Janey sobbed. "...Risking me?"

She didn't reply.

"Fiona, that's enough." Sasha said quietly from behind. 

"I've been paying her stupid rent for a year now, two hundred every two weeks!" Fiona yelled defiantly. "I have people to take care of-"

"So do I!" Athena screamed before turning to her girlfriend, "So does everyone! And what I do is no more illegal than keeping you in my home!"

Janey quickly slapped her hard at those words. Her palm stinging, but likely not as much as the face that recoiled away in shame. She started walking backwards before fully turning into a sprint out of the alley, disappearing from their sights until the sound of her sobs had dissipated.

They stood for what felt like the longest interaction they'd had. Fiona's smug look soon fading into a blank expression as Sasha looked on disapprovingly. Feeling some form of sympathy for the woman. They were all thieves, after all. Maybe it was more than that, though.

The police officer inhaled sharply, "You know what, I don't think I even have the strength to shoot you, let alone ask for money. I'd settle for your fucking skin flayed though." She tried to hold back tears and the scratch in her tone.

"You had it coming." Fiona said bluntly.

"And you'll have yours, you heartless freak." Athena looked back at Sasha, "Was that amusing to you? Do you get basic cable in your shitty caravan, is this how you get off or something?"

"I look out for my own." The younger sister replied, "Always."

"And is that another sibling?" Athena asked, looking up to the window at Rhys, watching with anger on his face.

Fiona almost wretched -- the officer taking that as her reply.

"Oh. Boyfriend, huh?"

"...Y-Yes." Fiona replied, in shame of the situation.

"He mean a lot to you, then?"

She just nodded slowly.

Athena ground her teeth together, taking in the sight of the disabled man, eye locked where his arm should be. Nodding herself, she just glared at the trio, letting some tears slip before walking off slowly into the alley, in a desperate pursuit of her Janey.

 

 

> _40 minutes later_

 

 

"Why does a police officer need to take money from you?" Rhys asked, already comfortably on the chaise lounge.

"It's a parking issue. A lot to do with insurance on the caravan home as well..." Fiona lied.

She was sitting by his feet, looking slightly more professional in a white shirt than she had in a tank top. Not that she needed a change of fashion to be impressive to him. Maybe if her lies ever did catch up to her he'd find them just as impressive. Sasha was on the verge of admitting it, and God only knew what she was up to in that bar with August.

"Didn't like that..." He admitted. "Made my arm-" The man corrected himself upon remembering there was nothing there despite the pain.

"Probably psychological..." She said timidly. 

"No shit."

Fiona was slightly taken aback by his attitude. "I'm sorry, Rhys."

"Reminded me of Jack. What you said to them, did to them." He whined.

It was as if her heart was a pincushion and he was _very_ good at sewing. Those words meant a lot to him, so she dare not take it lightly. But Fiona found herself choke up, just as she had done earlier. Her hands playing with the fabric of his pant's leg.

"I didn't know. Didn't know I'd act like that, didn't know you'd be watching-"

"Would you have stopped if I wasn't?" 

She groaned in discomfort, "What do you want me to say? What can I do to make this better, chase after them and get them back together?"

"Don't know -- wanna un-see that..."

She was about to continue, but an unfamiliar sound cut her off. She groaned again, standing up to turn the tap off, only to realize it was already off. A soft pitter-patter against metal and glass filled their ears before being over taken by a downpour riding a crash of thunder.

The window was dotted with droplets, seemingly forming and un-forming before their eyes due to the speed they covered the surface with. A buzz of warmth filled the air that passed through the cracks in the door, and Fiona now rushed to open it and look upwards.

A black swirl of clouds mixed with the blue sky in a sick discoloration, hanging overhead like a noose. The occasional bolt of blue lightning dug past the trench in the sky and roared into life, practically bringing more rain with it. Rhys approached behind her, looking slightly scared.

"Rain..." Fiona croaked, already becoming drenched by each warm droplet. "It's been so long."

His gaze was purely on her, only after awhile did Fiona remember her shirt, soaked through. He took off his jacket, feeling the monsoon on his skin, finally, before she closed the space between them. Her hat was tossed aside in a rare moment of passion, held against the concrete by his hoodie.

Cold lips. Hot mouths. Both wet. Their immediate embrace sullied any bitter feelings they felt in that moment. Kissing and scrambling to undo his fly and pull down at her shorts, holding herself up against him. A public display of affection as silence other than the rain and thunder filled what should have been the crowded sidewalks from beyond the alley.

Not that they'd care if anyone saw.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food sure is a common theme here. Probably some kind of underlying meaning to that. But then again, fuck it, here's a song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvKjpGP6P5Y
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com


	6. Christmas Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr? I hardly know her. Merry Christmas if you celebrate it. If you don't then I hope you have a great time regardless. Thank you. I didn't ever think I've be writing a special episode, but I went over my stand word limit so I thought why not?
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com

_"Rhys."_

_He heard her voice vibrate against the darkness surrounding him. So strong against his ears he could almost make out a visage of Fiona past the inky blackness._

_"Just let go again."_

_"I..." When he started talking it felt like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. His jaw unhinged but his mouth stayed wet, like he had to struggle to form words. "Don't wanna lose you."_

_"You'll never lose me."_

_Her tone shifted to a softer more warning demeanor. But it was full of want. Moving closer with each little breath they both exhaled._

_"You'll just lose yourself."_

 

 

> _Five Months Later_
> 
> _24th of December, 10:51pm_

 

 

Christmas never felt like Christmas when Rhys had worked under Hyperion. That was obviously intentional. Even the most ruthless and biggest corporations full of cutthroat try-hards and sleazy executives had decorations and office parties. Though after hearing stories it was probably for the best he never attended the latter. 

But he supposed it was almost fitting as Christmas never felt like Christmas in a city built on a desert. The fact he was never particularly religious certainly didn't help these waning feelings. Any glimmer of faith had hardly managed to hang on after his accident. And even in thinking faith important to others he could never find any outside of his faith in her.

His Holy Saint.

Never shifting his attachment to Fiona after all these months, even when she was inexplicably absent with her sister. But Rhys was far too enthralled to question her. Not that she ever gave him a reason to even do that. She was about as loyal to him when his mood shifted -- always praying at her altar. Of course the truth as to why she managed to care for him past everything aided them both.

Guilt.

And during this season cracks had started to form. With each month that passed Sasha had insisted upon telling him the truth, how the person he loved for caring and neutering him had conned him along the way. Taken disability cheques and lied about what she really did. But never how she felt.

The dynamics of Christmas. Even those who adhere to a different faith are absorbed by those underlining traits by walking down the street: Peace on Earth and goodwill to Mankind. But for Fiona peace on Earth could only be achieved for taking goodwill from Mankind.

When those streets are walked on you'll find a beggar, someone homeless. Tattered and desperate. Any other time of the year you could brush them off your shoulder like snow if you were truly heartless. And she wasn't that -- just enough unlike those men and women looking for food or a hit. She was _very_ good at what she did.

And for the first time since she was a child, Fiona sat in a Church, thinking on her sins. It was a small Methodist church she had stumbled on once before; just walking down the street with believers and none believers. It was no cathedral, just a boxed brick build with a roof that arched up.

So obviously a church, even if the stained-glass windows didn't give it away the black font that hung above it's giant, oval doorway would. Pillars like chimneys stuck out on either side, fiendishly inviting. Yet the idea of walking in, let alone praying, had never even crossed her mind.

But, during this time of year, she needed an anchor to weight her down. Remind her the one she already had was made of gold and lost a link.

"Can we do anything to help you, ma'am?" The Elder's friendly words matched the echo of his footsteps across the brightly lit but empty church interior. "Mass doesn't start for half an hour yet."

It was cooler inside that outside. But in Arizona, that wasn't saying much. And the only people she could see were busy behind the scenes preparing for a full-house midnight always offered churches during Christmas. Bustling with flowers of all colors, candles ready to be lit and wreathes ready to hang.

"I have somewhere to go if that's what you're wondering." Fiona mumbled back in monotone as she sat in a the furthest pew nave from the altar.

"I wasn't implying you had nowhere to stay. Just if you needed atonement."

"Strange assumption." She replied.

"Why else would you come to a Church?" The dough-faced man smiled knowingly.

Fiona avoided eye contact, looked away from his wrinkled face and clean robes to watch the moonlight hit colored glass. "Just because I need to talk doesn't mean I need to atone anything."

"And what do you need to talk about?" He said, feeling more comfortable to sit next to her, but still gave her space.

Fiona adjusted her hat and sighed audibly, "Just... These past five months have been _so_ quiet. And I feel awful that things are going so well. I'm waiting for that deer in the headlights, and nothing ever comes."

"Silence is revealing. Makes one think. Why are your thoughts so troubling?"

"Because I'm a bad person."

"We're all sinners. But we here believe that even the most wicked can be saved."

"I'm not waiting for death for any salvation. I don't deserve it. I've done bad things to all sorts of people, just never someone I cared about." 

The Elder leaned back in against the long wooden seat. "Who is this 'someone'?" 

She took a moment before responding, wondering if patient would be the right word to use. "My boyfriend." 

"I imagine all Pastors, Priests and Elders have experience in talking about wrong-doings others have done to their loved ones."

"I'm not cheating on him or anything, let me make that clear." Fiona asserted, slightly sterner than she'd like. "It's the way we met that wasn't as normal as it ought to be. And that stuck."

"Are you willing to share?"

Fiona just shook her head in response to his question. "I suppose I just need someone to know that I've done wrong. I'm not looking for forgiveness, just-"

"Acknowledgment." The older man finished her sentence. "I can't say there's a better place to go."

"Well. It was either this or Scientology." Fiona said with a smirk. 

The Elder laughed a bit, "No, I can't imagine they know this holiday quite as well as us here."

Fiona swallowed hard, looking around as before. "He's been worse this month. Like something's on his mind and I can't get through to him. But everything is-"

"Going so well?"

"Yeah. Nothing is happening. And I can't make peace with it. That's it."

"Are you sure you wont share more?" The man asked kindly.

She shook her head again, "No thank you..."

He himself now looked around before turning back to her again. "Are you staying for Mass?"

"No. I don't think I will."

"Well then, I suppose I'll just leave you with some passing words. Familiar with the Ten Commandants?"

Fiona shook her head in bemusement, "I don't think there are many people that aren't. Suppose you want to tell me 'Thous shall not lie' or something like that?"

"Something like that, absolutely. The commandant is 'You shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor'. I like to think ' _shall not'_ is literally rather than forthcoming. No one alive is truly capable of lying."

And with that, he stood up, leaving her. Footsteps echoing again, without words this time.  Fiona took her leave also, noticing the change of heat as her boots stomped out back into the street. It was always so quiet during this time of year, the recent Church-goer in her would like to think everyone was sleeping and not drinking.

Fiona took her phone in her hand, noticing how she held it harder than usual. The screen was so much brighter against her eyes than the gentle lights flickering in the Church -- artificial. Unlocking it with her thumb and scrolling down her contacts to see Rhys and Sasha's names.

Standing on the street would have felt like hours if she ever once heard local commuters to visit Mass. She never did. There was no one else trapped between the space she accompanied. Wondering silently to call anyone or just go back to the caravan. 

She didn't want to meet Santa Claus after all.

 

 

> _12 Hours Later_
> 
> _25th of December , 10:00am_

 

 

Neither one of them remembered pressing snooze on Fiona's phone alarm. They only found out when fumbling other each other when trying too. When Fiona came too, she realized Rhys was with her rather than at his apartment. It made her feel warm noticing how used to his presence snuggled next to her was. 

In the middle of muddle blankets and cushions they groaned collectively as she shut off her phone. She turned to her boyfriend, her smile beaming as he looked on groggily at her. Her arm wrapped around him, practically taking his soul into her own.

"Oh, Rhys... How long have you been here?" Fiona asked, now back to looking at him.

"Don't know..." He looked more pained than usual, holding his stump before his head.

"Did you have anything to drink last night?"

Rhys shook his head before correcting her, "Morning..." 

Fiona grinned before looking into his eye. "Merry Christmas." 

"M-Merry Christmas." He replied with a little smile in return. "I would give you your present but I left it at my place."

"You got me a present? You didn't have to."

"Said you got me one I just thought, maybe I'd get you one. Is that okay?" Rhys said apprehensively.

She ran her hands through his hair to comfort him, "Of course that's okay. It's better than okay it's amazing."

He went back to smiling a bit after her words hit his ears. They finally sat up in unison, although rays of sunlight peaked through the curtain cracks some festive lights woke up Fiona's room. The mattress creaked as they stood up, Rhys stumbling a bit due to his poor visibility.

The caravan was decorated messily with red tinsel, stuffed toys of snowmen and Santa, and various other things all ready to be stuffed in boxes like trash until the next year. But, towering over all was a Christmas tree tucked by the stairs leading up to the wheel. It would look cheap if it didn't explode in color from ornaments and a bright gold, plastic star that crowned it.

Underneath it's bushy bristles and branches were seemingly three presents varying in size amiss a few stray thorns on the beige carpet they laid below it. The two made their way to kneel comfortably in front of it, as if ready to accept it's offerings.

"Sash!" Fiona called from behind her.

Rhys shook his head, "Not here."

"How do you know that?"

"Brought my drinks. Went home with August."

Fiona's brow raised in some sadness at the thought of her sister sharing this morning with someone else. "On Christmas?"

"Sorry. Used to go out with friends on Christmas Eve." He mumbled while scratching the stubble on his face. "Excuse to stay off on Christmas. Got carried away..."

She sighed and nodded a bit, reaching for her present from Sasha and her own to Rhys. Tucked behind them all however was another they hadn't spotted. One from the youngest sister to Rhys -- unexpected to both of them. But it made the couple feel warm inside none the less.

It was a flat rectangle with groves protruding from the sides of the face. All wrapped neatly in a reflective blue wrapping paper with a little white note taped onto it:

_'Rhys,_

_Merry Christmas._

_Lots of love, Sasha'_

He appreciated the simplicity and ease of opening. It didn't stop his girlfriend from wanting to do it for him. It was sweet, if unneeded. Once opened, he revealed his present to Fiona. A picture the three of them took together with August the night they had that encounter. It made Rhys feel better. Like a family.

It took him by some surprise when he noticed Fiona's present for him was under her tree. She had expected him to stay, and even if there wasn't much he could grasp anymore he still deduced this. Watching her face beam like a spotlight towards him, masking any sadness from her sister's absence. The love she felt for him was almost noble.

Love.

Powerful word that meant so much to him, yet so little after how many times he's told her he loved her. Never asking for anything in return. Sasha could easily tell them both how she felt about them. Through a picture of a new hat that was unboxed by Fiona. Matching blue wrapping paper torn and tossed aside as she marveled her gift.

"That's so Sash. Hoping you didn't get me a hat." Fiona joked as she tried the head-wear on. 

He waited for her to do so. The thick and tightly woven tan felt on straw was a shade darker than her skin. The green band encircling it brought out the white of her eyes. She looked so content, well rested, happy despite something present, irritating so far under her skin it hit her soul.

Neither of them waited for an answer, though both knew why there was palpable tension in the room, only one of them was right. Rhys took his present from Fiona in so it was placed in front of him. A mid-sized box, the wrapping paper was a bright red with little green Christmas trees dotting it all over.

There was a card taped on the front, a painted picture of a forest caked in white of a snowstorm, the skies above glowing purple and orange, revealing the forest. He opened the card, reading it in his head:

_'My Rhys,_

_You're the light of my life._

_Words on a card couldn't begin to thank you for everything._

_Merry Christmas._

_All the love I can give, Fiona'_

The smile on his face grew wider while Fiona watched, making her's do the same in turn. "You sure you don't want any help?"

"I'm good. Really." He replied, still smiling as he began to unwrap his gift.

"I was wondering what to get you for ages, and I thought about clothes and gimmicky things. And I noticed how attached you are to me. I'm not complaining, just an observation. Although, if I am honest it's very flattering. So what does the up most expert in all things Fiona need?"

Rhys opened the cardboard box, revealing a grey sweatshirt and a checkered blue and brown scarf inside. He looked a little puzzled before looking up to her.

"Okay, something warmer too because I worry about you even though we're in a desert, but look underneath it." She said, giggling, taking the clothes out for him.

Two, hard plastic, green eyes looked up at him from the box. A thick, furry tan body with fuzzy legs, pawed arms and a tiny felt hat stitched onto it's head with a tuft of red hair. The brow even had a scar running down it -- stitched in. One he barley even noticed on her. Oblivious to any imperfections she could have.

Fiona coughed, embarrassed and mumbling her explanation before him. With his wide smile mixed with confusion at this cuddly replica of his girlfriend he didn't even think was possible. But the care and love that clearly went into making it just spoke her words enough. 

"It was an idea I came up with." Her pitch went high. "Drunk, of course. It's a Fiona bear. For when I'm not around. It's stupid, I know. Really stupid. It's just I don't like the idea of being without you. And when I am I just feel like I need to be there in some way. At first I thought it was because I thought you'd need to be codependent or whatever. But the more I thought on it the more I knew that I can't bear you, alone in that apartment."

Rhys looked up from the bear into Fiona's eyes, a giddy expression on his face. Like he was trying to force words he couldn't possible fathom from his stomach out at his partner. But he couldn't in the moment. Only noticing how she glowed even brighter than the Christmas tree.

Fiona tried to ignore how happy his complexion made her, trying to finish her justification. "Even if you're okay without seeing me every second. I'm not. I... I love you."   

She said it. Finally, after the words had been trying to crawl out of her throat for so long. He looked different. Some genuine happiness. Fiona had even noticed how he was laughing. A proper, real laugh. A noise she hadn't heard before. It was almost rapturous.

"...You can't _bear_ me alone?" He pursed his smiling lips.

Fiona started laughing again herself. "Can I just say that wasn't intentional?"

After she was finished, he looked in the now almost-empty box at one last gift. "What's that?"

"It's lingerie." Fiona said, calmer now. I know I'll be wearing it but I still consider that a gift for you." She purred. "O-Oh, and I got you this as well. I would have put it in the box, but it was already pretty full after the teddy bear." She spoke up once the excitement passed, handing him a much smaller gift in the same wrapping paper. 

He let out a peaceful sigh upon opening it. Like he was letting all his worry leave his body. Tossing the minimal amount of wrapping paper aside while fitting his gift easily into his hand. A one-handed bottle opener. "Th-Thank you, Fiona. So much."

She shrugged in triumph, standing up and clearing up all the wrapping paper. Rhys held his gifts underarm and sat properly down on the leather couch. The bear seated on his lap as he examined it more. Comparing it to the woman putting paper in the bin after it's minimal use.

The logistics of how short a life wrapping paper had crossed his mind. But the little smirk on the teddy's face took his mind far from it. He couldn't hug it properly, of course. But it was still nice to know she was watching him. Even if she wasn't really.

Christmas always brought him back to Hyperion since his accident. And even if he wasn't drunk anymore, there was still some adrenaline running through him from these gifts. And from her. Always Fiona. He wouldn't need a stuffed bear to come with him. He'd need the real thing, something fierce and strong to keep him stable.

And luckily he was dating that.

"Fiona." Rhys spoke, louder than before, she turned to face him in some surprise. "It's Christmas."

"I'm aware, sweetie." Fiona teased.

"No. But it's Christmas. People I used to work with, everyone at Hyperion all over the world work on Christmas. Don't get trees or gifts."

"You're free from all that now, Rhys." Fiona soothed prematurely, moving closer to him, "It's alright-"

"I know. It's really alright. It's so alright that I'm going to see them."

Her eyes went wide, "No, no, no. You don't need to see anyone but us, okay?" She sat next to him, clearly getting angry -- though not at him.

"Fiona." He stopped her, placing his hand on her knee. "I _need_ to see them."

"I get it, you're on a rush right now, presents, me -- and I haven't even made us eggnog yet. But whatever you're thinking, if it's pity, guilt, anger, anything. I'm not letting you go back to that horrible place."

"I want to show you. Everything. What happened, where-"

Fiona shook her head, "I don't need to know who you were. Because I have you now, here. Please. Just spend Christmas with us. One day where you don't live with it."

"Live everyday with it..." He muttered. "Just don't want them to. Never saw anyone after it happened. And it's Christmas-"

Fiona wrapped her arms around him, resting her head in his neck, her new hat almost falling off. "You big, stupid, caring idiot... Why don't we just walk by it? Just look inside, you don't have to see anyone."

"I want to." Rhys asserted. "Need you with me." He sobbed without tears, "Please."

This was all happening so fast it made her head rush. It was as if he was dead set on this since he woke up. That aura around him she thought she could extinguish. And she didn't even have a real medical opinion as to whether this would help. Just the girlfriend voice screaming at her to do anything he wanted.

"Is this why you've been looking so... sad? All this time."

He nodded. "Miss a lot of it. Before. But I'm happy it happened. Because I met you."

Fiona looked guiltily at the carpeted floor. Wondering herself if she were really at all happy that he had to be in the condition he was to be with her. If she loved him so much, if she they were such family that she'd take not knowing him to have him back to how he was. Not that she'd even want to meet that man.

When he talked about himself back then, outside of work, he sounded so different. Stronger willed, stronger spirit. More like her. And that wasn't a good thing, not in her eyes matching the bear's on his lap. She smiled at the work she put into making it. And she thought she was willing to put more into helping him.

It didn't matter if she was a real therapist or not. Someone had to.

"We'll get showered, dressed. We'll walk outside. I wont have you going in, I'll call Sasha and after that we can all be together on Christmas, okay? Even August..."

"Alright..." Rhys agreed, in a dull tone. Like a child that had just been told he can't open his presents early.

"I love you, okay? I just don't want you to be hurt. Not today. We'll go outside, but I don't think I can let you go in."

Rhys stood up, slumped down a bit in sadness, walking towards the bathroom. He closed it behind her, and Fiona waited for a slam that never came. She almost wanted him to be angry at her -- but she knew he never could. She groaned and wiped her eyes, leaning back on the couch and looking up at the star on the tree.

Maybe she'd pray for a good day.

 

 

> _Outside Hyperion Regional_ _Headquarters_
> 
> _Downtown Phoenix_
> 
> _One hour later_

 

 

"We've probably come at a good time." Fiona said, walking down the business district with Rhys. It wasn't the longest walk from there to the caravan, and Christmas made it feel so empty and alien. "Before lunch break."

"Break?" Rhys replied quizzically. "Here?"

"You didn't get breaks?"

He shook his head, "Is two minutes a break?"

"No..." She looked somberly at him, but was almost impressed considering he put up with it.

They reached Hyperion, a building towering over them like the Christmas tree. But, unlike a tree, other buildings far less grand, and the street as a whole, it was devoid of decorations. Not even other trees. The tall structure doubled as a factory built into the back, matching in style of glass and yellow concrete and silver metals for support.

It was impressive, and clearly compensating since Jack had buildings just like this all over the country and the world. But Rhys wasn't looking at that. He was standing next to his own monolith. Supported himself like steel beams. Fiona stopped outside, and he did too. Just taking it all in.

"Why do you own a cross necklace?" Rhys asked, look at the golden cross dangling off her neck. 

"It's very Christmas-y." Fiona replied, still looking at the building.

"You religious?"

"Not in the slightest, no. Just needed faith. Not much else to turn to. Besides, I wouldn't mind being saved and spending my salvation with you." She smiled at the thought. Not that she thought she deserved it.

"Don't like that." Rhys admitted. "People I don't want to be saved."

Fiona adjusted her new hat, just thinking of names of people herself she had swindled over more than once. Of course, the reasonable part wanted them to be saved -- they were people. But more of her didn't want to confront them, let alone in Heaven. And she'd rather not keep her lie up  _that_ long.

She turned to him. "Are you happy now?"

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. "No. Still wanna go in."

"Would they even let you?"

"They said come back whenever you want."

Fiona raised her eyebrow, "Knowing these people they probably meant to work. Human resources, even in your condition." She spat out, disgusted at her words.

"Still wanna go in." He repeated. 

"I thought you might." Fiona replied before sighing, "How long would you want to visit?"

"Few minutes. Please."

"Fine. In and out, I don't want you getting familiar. I wont just say no to you, one day I'll act on it, Rhys." Fiona promised, defeating as she held his hand and pulled him forward towards the entrance.

Two one-way revolving doors, entrance and exit, stood either side of the glass wall revealing the lobby. A yellow carpet adorning the Hyperion logo reached towards the oval of the wooden front desk. A smell of artificial fruit persisted in the air, but nothing blocked out the metallic smell from the factories.

"What's is that?" Fiona asked as they approached the front desk.

"Processing. Part of the factory. Machines cut up metal and plastic for everything really..."

"Is that where it happened?"

He nodded a bit, looking on expressionless. Like being away from it all was worse. Somewhere between peace and terror.

"What did you do here?" 

"Worked in IT..."

"So how did you-"

"Rhys?!" A voice from the front-desk asked loudly.

The figure standing up and making the wheels on her chair roll made Rhys tense up. Fiona squeezed his hand harder, as if to alert him to the woman approaching. She looked as if it was difficult to walk over, a pencil dress and high-heels interrupting her brief walk over.

"Sorry, not used to walking around in these things. But I figured I'd look good if I'm sitting around all day. God, Rhys. I didn't recognize you with your fucked up... well, everything."

"Yvette." Rhys croaked in some kind of response. "How..." He shook his head in disbelief. "How are you?" 

She adjusted her glasses, scanning him up and down with his eyes. "You first."

"Good." 

"You don't really look it. Got a carer and everything-"

"Girlfriend, actually." Fiona interrupted.

"It's amazing that you stayed with him after the accident." She smiled, as genuine as corporate smiles were.

"Met after." Rhys mumbled, sounding frustrated.

Yvette looked down in embarrassment before rubbing her eyes to avoid looking at Fiona's glare. "Am I being rude?" She asked.

"Very." Fiona replied.

"Again, sorry, Rhys. I'm just so pissed off. Turns out requisition is all automated now... So guess who's stuck at the front desk."

"Sorry." He said quietly, "Really."

"I'm guessing you're visiting everyone for Christmas? I'll buzz in and tell them you're coming." She went back to smiling. "Took your time, though."

"Something like that." The man fumbled his words out, finding this harder than he thought. But Fiona felt like an anchor chained to him. 

"Well, if you need to talk or anything just call the front desk."

"Why didn't you?" Fiona asked, letting go of his hand to cross her arms, earning there looks. "Why didn't you just call him?"

"I..." Yvette's excuse caught in her throat, "Was just busy. The move and all. Getting adjusted."

The con-artist just glared at her more. The look even scared Rhys.

"See ya around, Rhys. I hope." She said, practically hopping back to her desk.

He pointed to a set of doors on their left and Fiona started walking quickly to them with him, taking his hand again.

"Some friends. She was an inconsiderate asshole." Fiona spat out in a whisper.

"Sure she was just busy." Rhys replied timidly, looking away from his girlfriend's still angry face.

"Did you ever come back here after? Before me?"

"Y-No. No. Didn't... Never got my stuff from the lockers."

"Oh, we'll get it, Rhys." Fiona growled under breath, squeezing his hand tighter than before.

Before long, past corridors and staring eyes, they entered the first room of the factory floor. A grey, large room with a tall ceiling and rows of machines connecting to conveyor belts that fed them. A balcony holding white office cubicles in a detached room sat on the other side, held up by metal stairs. 

Rhys went pale looking at one of the machines, moving his eye to Fiona and back on it. She only nodded with a little smile as she put two and two together. The machine carried metal and plastics into it's maw of blades and saws. It was strange, seeing him so calm. But his pulse through his palm told the woman what she knew already.  

Before too long, past the crowd of uncaring works manning the unautomated machines, a scrawny, hunch over man emerged from the cubicles in a hurry. That look was back in Rhys' face. The halfway point between terror. It was bizarre to Fiona, like he was trying to figure out what to say to the man that now called his name.

"Rhys?!" Vaughn yelled as he made his way down the stairs.

"Your friends don't exactly have original introductions." Fiona commented.

Vaughn made his way past the rabble of workers and machines, out of breath by the time he stood in front of the couple. "God..." He huffed, "The Ghost of Christmas Past? Shouldn't be saying that word, but still. Yvette just called, I didn't believe you were coming. Where you been?" 

"Gonna ask the same thing." Rhys muttered.

"I was busy, man. You know how things are here." Vaughn looked nervous as he examined what was left of his former-friend. "Who's she?"

"I'm his girlfriend." Fiona asserted. "And you are?"

"Vaughn. I'm his best friend."

"He's never mentioned you. Ever."

The smaller man looked hurt, a quizzically look on his face. "Can't say I blame him."

"You're not my friend, Vaughn." Rhys spoke up, some anger building. "Didn't visit me in hospital."

"Did anyone?" The other man asked.

"Jack. To fire me."

"Y'Threatened to sue, man, wasn't personal." A voice called out from behind Vaughn, clearly affecting both men. "Nice of you to drop by, kiddo. Can't imagine four-eyes here was doin' much anyway. And hey, you even made him run down here, so you're givin' my employees exercise."

"Did you enjoy your sushi, Jack?"   

"That was you at the restaurant?" Jack asked, "Ah -- I remember now. I go to a lotta hospitals so I'm used t'seein' people like you. All fucked and such."

"Why is fucked such an apt description for disability around here?" Fiona barked.

"Oh shit, man! It was here where it all happened, right? I actually named that mean bitch 'the fucker' after it fucked you up."

"He did." Vaughn admitted, "It's labelled and everything."

"Lost it all here..." Rhys mumbled.

Fiona let go of his hand to rub his arm, "Lost what? Your arm?"

Jack interrupted, "His job too. I mean, he woulda lost it anyway -- duh. Just a fancier way of firin' him."

She let out a furious exhale, "So. What happened?."

"He was fixin' the fucker and I asked him to clear a jam manually for banter. I was lyin' but it kinda escalated. Chomped his arm bad. Four-eyes was grabbing on, to him. Thought I'd have to fire two people after hearing that. The fucker woulda been all chomped out. Shoulda called it the Chomper actually... My label maker's broke though." Jack looked disappointed.

"-Turns out it was jammed." Vaughn muttered looking almost disgusted thinking back at it. "Some of the plastic being processed was probably already broken. Like glass. All sharp. Piece flew out and took half his face with it."

"Oh yeah..." Jack reminisced with a blissful look on his face. "Like I said, I was just fuckin' with ya. But, y'know; every cloud. I was so young then..."

"It wasn't that long ago, sir." Vaughn remarked while shaking his head a bit.

The boss shrugged, "Still. I was gonna upgrade t'somethin' with lasers. But I forgot." He said, placing his hand down on the conveyor belt, making him stumble a bit. "A-And what did Wallethead  tell ya then four-eyes? When this guy was all screamin'?"

"He told me to let go."

"Did ya?"

Fiona looked at Vaughn, her lips pouted angrily. He only nodded in reply, quickly and confidently. Rhys looked emotionless, just staring at Vaughn, silently judging him. Fiona was fuming at this point, as if she was about to will herself on fire, gaining all their attentions.

"You fucking animals!.." She snarled. "You absolute monsters-"

Vaughn cough a bit to correct her, "It wasn't personal-"

"You chose a job over your friend, sounds pretty fucking personal!"

"Haven't seen Wallethead still." The boss seemed to be completely in his own world. "I mean, I'm gettin' his pay, so that's cool. I'd just rather leave this fuckin' wasteland."

"Good." Rhys admitted.

"I'm glad ya think so, kiddo. It's Christmas after all. Well, for me anyhow."

"You aren't spending it with your daughter?" The former-employee tested.

Jack smirked a bit at him, some anger in his eyes, just like Fiona at his words. "Nah, I got someone takin' care of that... About time y' get goin', kiddo."

Surprisingly, he obeyed, turning and walking the way he came, any sound from his footsteps drowned out by mechanics and bickering workers.

"Rhys?" Fiona called, her anger shifting to worry.

Vaughn placed a hand on her shoulder, "I'm really sorry-"

The woman quickly reacted, sending her knee up into his crotch, making him fall over onto the dirty, concrete floor.

"Merry Christmas..." Fiona spat out, causing Jack to start clapping a bit.

"Aren't you going to do anything?!" Vaughn asked Jack.

"Do you need your balls to crunch numbers?" He replied.

"Where's Rhys' locker?" Fiona asked, still clearly livid.

"The door on the other side marked employees, sweet cheeks." Jack replied. "B-But I put 'expendables' on right door there -- God, I miss my label maker."

"Don't call me that, asshole." She said, shoving past Jack and Vaughn on the floor.

Her mind was racing by the time she made it too the doors. All that adrenaline Rhys had was passed over to her. She felt lightheaded, proud, sad. She almost wanted Rhys to react the way she had, not just stand like a statue and wait for orders like he never left Hyperion.

She entered a room, dimly lit, full of lockers labeled with names. Likely by Jack. The metal lockers reflected the light from the ceiling, and Fiona found herself punching each one she passed until finding Rhys'. Her knuckles bare and raw by the time she did, only to sob softly into her arm when she found his.

"I'm sorry, Rhys." Fiona cried, knowing someone had to say those words. It wouldn't change anything.

His locker was dusted over, no one had touched it in so long. She blew on it, clearly some of it away before opening it. Inside was a pair of keys for a car likely long sold off by off. An old tie, thin, long and red that she took in her hands -- holding it to her face. 

Tucked in the back was an ID Card. She smiled widely looking at a picture of him before everything happened. His brown hair neatly trimmed, his smug looking face, an eye she hadn't seen before. On the walls of the locker were pictures of a blonde woman, around his age.

Fiona felt a twinge of jealously looking at it, despite never considering herself the jealous type. A blue eyed girl with no scars on her face like her. The rest of the things in the locker consisted of clearly stolen work equipment. Fiona was a little proud at these findings. A simply black rucksack leaned against the walls. 

She was about ready to call her sister, and decided to pack the rest of his items in the bag -- excluding the picture. That would be the last curio left in this locker. When she peeled the zip of the backpack, she couldn't fathom what she saw in it. Confusion and questions hitting her like a bullet as one object hung out alongside valuable looking ornaments.

A handgun.

 

 

> _Outside the building_

 

Rhys stood, waiting, sitting in a slumped mess on the pavement, waiting until he was out of sight to begin crying. He wanted Fiona, he'd even take the bear at this point. And he was fed up with waiting for whatever she was doing. Yet, when he turned around to look, hearing the sound of high heels on tarmac, he found Yvette behind him.

She had no words to offer, speechless but smiling faux-comfortingly. But, remembering his life before the mess he was in now, his friends, his job, he felt warm looking up at her. She just handed him a slip of paper with a number on it, one he did not recognize. But he knew it was hers.

He just didn't know why.

"Merry Christmas, Rhys." Yvette finally said before walking away, leaving him alone.

Just waiting.

 

* * *

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I went over my usual 4,000 or so word limit so decided to make my first ever special. Please tell me what you think, I accept criticism as a Christmas present. Thanks again.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0k9lDd8ve0Y
> 
> Tumblr: ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: http://ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com/


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